


Beaten

by coupdepam



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 76,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupdepam/pseuds/coupdepam
Summary: Toby helps Sam recover from being attacked but it's a little harder to help him come to terms with why it happened.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sam breathed deeply and tried to disperse the rage that surprised him with its ferocity. He could still picture Josh sitting at the table glibly trying to explain away an action that Sam found reprehensible. He took another deep breath and watched as it dissipated beneath the lights of the restaurant awning. Josh wouldn’t follow him, he was certain of that. Toby and CJ had looked shocked as his chair had scraped backwards and he’d thrown his napkin onto the table. He looked up the street and thought about hailing a cab but realising this needed to be sorted out tonight he decided to walk around the block, calm down and then go back in. CJ and Toby had organised this meal in a bid to get Sam and Josh back on speaking terms and the least he could do was give it another go. He stuck his hands in his pockets, sighed and then stepped away from the restaurant’s warm entrance.

The arm that crossed over his chest and pulled him backwards took him so much by surprise that he could do nothing but follow the momentum of the pressure until he hit the wall of the alley behind him. At first he thought he had somehow got tangled up into someone else’s fight or that a drunk had staggered into him. He was winded from hitting the wall and in the brief seconds it took for him to make sense of the danger he was in, it was too late to react and the arm that had pushed him backwards was now crushing into his neck. “Make a sound, you’re dead.” The voice was rough but the words were whispered into Sam’s ear. The street light at the end of the alleyway was fading, turning into a dull yellow circle. Sam’s knees started to sag and he told himself not to struggle to just drop to the floor, not to move and let them take whatever they wanted. 

They didn’t want anything though. That much became clear when the arm was removed and was followed by a swift punch to his stomach. It wasn’t a punch born of desperate violence but a calculated, skilful punch that managed to knock what little air was left out of Sam. A pair of hands hoisted him up and dragged him further into the alley. Sam recovered enough breath to let the man finish dragging him before lashing out. It was too dark to make out anything but shadows but Sam swung his arm into what he thought was his attacker’s stomach. He heard a satisfying gasp and turned towards the light from the street but was grabbed again and slammed into the wall. He heard a quick exchange and realised that there were two men. One of them pinned his arms behind his back while the other struck blow after blow. Sam’s knees gave way but he was hoisted back up. Two more blows to his stomach and two to his face were struck before the man behind him finally let go and let him fall to the ground. Blood rose in Sam’s mouth and he spat it onto the ground. 

“Come on, man, that’s enough.” The words were spoken urgently and Sam tried to match their meaning to the footsteps he could hear beside him. A figure appeared before him backlit by the street lamp. “We were told to rough him up. He’s had enough, leave it.” The figure retreated slightly. “Fuck this, man!” Feet splashed through the puddles and the man was gone.

Sam closed his eyes and groaned. He tried to reach for his cell phone but his arm wouldn’t cooperate. He managed to pull himself slightly from the ground but collapsed again and focused on breathing through the pain that ripped through him. The sound of something being broken behind was quickly followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Sam closed his eyes in relief and waited for the person to find him and help. The thought that there had been two men and he had only seen one leave, struck him at the same time as the metal pipe. He curled into a ball desperately trying to shrink away from this new assault. The pipe crashed down again, this time on his back. He tried to roll away. Pain punctuated by even sharper pain was all Sam knew. He heard himself begging and felt no shame at it. He would die in this alley, was all he could think. Silence then metal landing and rolling away abruptly stopping as it hit the wall. A hand grabbed hold of Sam’s collar and yanked him up. The man’s face was so close that Sam could feel his breath on his face. “Tell Josh Lyman that this is for Gillmore.” Sam felt a pain sharper than any before in his arm and then a tug. Desperate to make the man see that he had understood he nodded frantically. He was flung to the ground then felt one more blow to his ribs. The man’s footsteps faded and then only the sound of traffic was left to accompany Sam’s rattling breaths. 

 

Toby pulled his collar up and stood below the awning. Sam’s number was ringing and hadn’t gone to answer phone. He dialled again and looked at the screen to check it was Sam he was calling. A few weeks ago he had called his accountant, also called Sam, and demanded to know if he had ever had the pleasure of meeting a comma or apostrophe. Sam the accountant had replied that he’d come across a few but personally preferred semi-colons. 

It had started to rain, and as he stared at the screen a drop of water fell onto it from the awning above. Toby rubbed the phone on his trousers. He stopped mid-movement and listened. In the gaps between the passing cars he was sure he could hear a cell phone ringing. He waited for another gap and then ended the call. The distant ring tone ended also. He stepped out of the awning and onto the street as he dialled again. The same ring tone answered and Toby looked around for Sam. He looked up and down the street and across to the other side. Turning in a full circle he almost missed the flash of green in the alleyway. He turned back and saw it and took a few steps towards it. “Sam?” He walked into the opening of the alleyway and called again. Toby tried to think of possible logical reasons for why Sam’s phone would be on the floor in an alleyway and then the cold realization that Sam might also be here forced him into a run pulling up shortly before the cell phone’s flashing light. He bent down and reached out for it, feeling around the surrounding ground for Sam or more of his belongings. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark Toby stepped forward more confidently. His foot brushed against something and he stooped down. He heard Sam’s moan and cursed as he knelt down beside the still form.

Toby reached out tentatively and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. He recoiled in shock as Sam flinched violently away from him and moaned again. “It’s okay, Sam, it’s me, Toby. It’s okay now.” He reached for his own cell phone and started to dial for an ambulance. It clattered to the ground and Toby cursed his shaking hands as he picked it up. He couldn’t make out much and although the sound of a door opening made him jump, he was glad for the sudden light that swept into the alley.

A cook from the restaurant emerged from the doorway and lit a cigarette. Toby, blinded by the light, squinted up at him at the same moment the man saw him and Sam.

“Hey! What’re you doing? Get away from him, man!”

“No, it’s not…he’s my friend, he needs help. Can you phone for an ambulance, he’s bleeding? Get some towels or something?” 

The man flicked his cigarette across the alley and hurried back inside. Toby looked back down at Sam and instantly wished for the darkness to return. His face was bloody, the rain that ran over it caused a fountain effect of blood to wash over it and collect on the ground beneath him. One arm was wrapped around his waist and the other lay awkwardly beside him. His legs were curled into his stomach, the knees of his trousers ripped and one shoe missing. Toby placed his hand on Sam’s head and called to him and although Sam’s eyes opened, he wasn’t able to respond to the familiar voice. 

“Here,” the cook was suddenly beside Toby, handing him the towels. “The ambulance is on its way.” 

Toby nodded. He reached out to hold Sam’s hand. It was soaking but Toby gripped it tightly. He thought of Josh and CJ still inside and reached for his cell phone. It slipped out of his hand and it was only as Toby looked down to retrieve it that he saw his hand was covered in blood. He looked up at the cook who had seen it too and together they reached for Sam’s hand and pulled it away from his body. Blood was rushing down it and seeping into one of the towels that lay by him. Toby struggled to remove Sam’s jacket. The cook ran back inside, returned with a pair of scissors and cut along the sleeve. Just above Sam’s elbow he stopped cutting; the blood soaked shirt turned white at that point. There was a small slit in the material and behind that a wound that was gushing blood freely now that the jacket had been removed. Toby grabbed for a towel and placed it firmly on it. Sam became aware of the pressure and shrugged away. He moaned and tried again to escape from Toby’s grasp. “It’s okay, Sam, it’s Toby, you’re safe now.”

“My name’s Michael, by the way,” the cook said as he placed another towel around Sam’s arm. Toby told Michael his name but his attention never left Sam who had calmed slightly now and was searching for Toby’s face but was unable to focus.

 

CJ lifted her glass. The chinking as its stem hit her plate was the only sound at the table. Since Toby had left, Josh and she had said few words. Josh stared across the room at the other diners and sighed before turning his attention back to CJ. “You think I’m wrong too.”

“I think you did what you thought was best at the time, but now I think you regret it. There’s not much anyone can do about that, Josh.” CJ placed her glass back down and reached for Josh’s hand. “You saved Leo from exposure that he would not have survived. That’s not a bad day’s work.”

Josh nodded and tried to smile. “I hate how Sam gets about things like this. I hate that he has to get on his-” Josh’s words were halted by a waiter’s appearance at their table.

“Miss Cregg, Mr Lyman, will you come with me please.” 

Josh sent a puzzled glance at CJ who returned it.

“Mr Ziegler asked me to fetch you. He’s outside. Please.” There was a tone of urgency to the waiter’s voice which made them stand without question and follow him through the kitchen and out to the alleyway. CJ saw Toby first and she called his name. Toby glanced up, his face illuminated by the light from the doorway. Josh cursed as he saw the look on Toby’s face. He had seen that look before; he remembered seeing it clearly when everything else had been a haze of fear and pain. He stood for a few seconds unable to bring himself to look at the form lying on the ground. Michael leaned behind Toby to reach for another towel and as he did so Sam’s face could be seen. CJ’s hand rose to her mouth. The expensive wine Josh had been enjoying moments before rose in his throat and he swallowed compulsively. He felt CJ push beside him and watched as she hurried over to Sam.

Toby scooted sideways slightly so that she could sit beside him. “I came out to find him…I phoned him…found him here…found him like this.”

CJ looked at Toby’s hand holding the towel tightly against Sam’s arm. She removed her jacket and placed it under Sam’s head. “Sam, can you hear me? It’s CJ.”

Sam’s eyes opened and settled on Toby. His brow furrowed in confusion and CJ moved closer so that he could see her. “CJ.” A small smile flickered across his face but it quickly turned to a grimace. He tried to shift away from the pressure on his arm but felt hands behind him holding him in place. “Your dress…ruined,” Sam said as he looked at the blood that had already started to soak into the delicate material. “Who’s bleeding?” Sam asked. CJ wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if telling Sam that he was would be the most comforting thing to hear. 

“You are,” Toby answered for her. “You’re okay now though, we found you and it’s going to be okay.”

Sam looked across at Toby and nodded. “Okay,” he mumbled and then his eyes closed. “Going to close…close eyes bit, Toby.”

“No!” Toby shook Sam until his eyes opened again. “Don’t sleep, Sam, you can’t close your eyes.”

Sam looked at Toby in confusion before settling his gaze on CJ. “Don’t sleep,” he told her. CJ’s look of horror was not caused by his words but by the blood that gushed out of his mouth as he spoke them. 

“Oh God, Toby, do something!” It was Michael who responded. He darted around to kneel next to CJ, straightened Sam’s legs, pulled his hand up to his face and then grabbed a handful of Sam’s pants to help pull Sam onto his side and into the recovery position.  
CJ picked up one of the towels and wiped the blood away. 

“Toby says…don’t…don’t sleep,” Sam repeated to CJ and she stroked his head and told him Toby was right.

Josh had watched it all but hadn’t moved. He heard the sirens before he saw the lights and then heard the clunk as the ambulance drove over a loose drain in the alleyway. Only when the paramedics surrounded Sam did he walk over to him. He stood beside CJ who was watching silently as Toby reluctantly relinquished his position to give them more room to work. He listened to the quick-fire conversation between the paramedics and watched as Sam was lifted onto a gurney and wheeled at a dizzying speed toward the ambulance. He turned away from Toby and CJ and followed the ambulance which was forced to drive slowly back up the narrow alley. Toby saw Josh’s outstretched arm and the cab that pulled up beside him. He grabbed CJ’s elbow and hurried to join him.

 

“Is there anything on my schedule tomorrow that involves hats?” President Bartlet asked a bemused Charlie who picked up a clipboard and scanned the information on it.

”No, sir.” Charlie placed it back down but then something caught his eye. “Having said that,” Charlie scanned the list again, “yeah, you have a meeting with Governor Trilby.”

“Ah ha!” Bartlet cried triumphantly. “Cancel it.”

Charlie turned around in his chair to face him. “Cancel it?”

“Yes. I had this dream and I don’t mind telling you, Charlie, that it’s conjured a sense of dread when having anything to do with ha-”

“This is a little like the time you cancelled a meeting with Ambassador Pien because someone told you that a man with a beard would bring you great hardship.”

“He did bring me great hardship and you just interrupted the President of the United States, I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“He beat you at chess,” Charlie continued.

Bartlet stuck his hands into his pockets and nodded. Charlie groaned inwardly at the move by move account of the game he was certain he was about to be given. He was relieved when Leo appeared from his office. That relief was soon replaced by concern though when he saw the expression on Leo’s face.

Bartlet saw it too. “Leo?”

Leo nodded towards the Oval Office and Bartlet followed him inside. “What is it?”

“I just got a call from Toby. Sam was attacked an hour ago.” Leo watched as Bartlet slumped against his desk and waited before continuing. “He’s in the ER now. Toby says beaten and stabbed. CJ’s at the hospital but she’ll come in when she’s spoken to the doctor.”

Bartlet shook his head and folded his arms he looked up at Leo and saw the fury he felt being contained in his friend’s expression. “How bad?”

“We don’t know yet but Toby said he was bleeding a lot and lost consciousness in the ambulance. The press don’t have it yet but they soon will. The attackers haven’t been caught.”

“Do we know why they did it? Was it a mugging?”

Leo stepped closer to the President. “They didn’t take a thing. We should get Ron up to speed.”

Bartlet agreed and Leo left to contact him. Even on the scant details he had so far, Bartlet knew there was something very wrong about this. He sat at his desk and tried to think what Sam had been working on recently and whether he had been in the public eye over any particular issues. He tried to think of some way to make sense of what had happened. He could not.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

When the doctor finally walked into the waiting room its three occupants shot to their feet. “Mr Seaborn is stable now and you’ll be able to see him soon.” He announced as he walked over to them. “His condition was rapidly deteriorated in the ER. We were having difficulties stabalising him until we discovered a stab wound to his chest. Some of the blows he received broke several ribs which caused his lung to collapse but the wound compounded this and a large amount of air built up which caused the sudden deterioration. We’ve inserted a number of tubes and will continue to monitor his lungs closely. Surgery isn’t required at this point. He’s got three broken ribs, a concussion, stab wound to his lower arm and a sprained wrist not to mention the numerous bruises and cuts. Mr Seaborn-”

“Call him Sam,” Toby interrupted.

“Sam came to briefly in the ER but he’s been unconscious ever since. We’ll be sending him up for some scans in the next half-hour.”

“What are you looking for?” CJ asked. 

“Let’s just wait and see what the scans show. There have obviously been some blows or a blow to the head and we need to do tests in these circumstances.” He stood and looked at his patient’s friends. “A nurse will come and get you when it’s okay to see Sam. Don’t be alarmed by the tubes and mask. I won’t lie to you, it was touch and go in the ER but he’s stable now and doing well.”

The doctor left them as he had found them, sitting in silence and apart from each other. “I should get back to the office,” CJ said but she showed no inclination to move.

“You should,” Toby agreed but he gave her a look that let her know he knew she didn’t want to. “I’ll phone as soon as there’s any news. Let me know who has it and what they’re-”

“No need,” Josh interrupted as he turned up the volume on the TV. A reporter was standing outside the hospital, already speculating about the motives for, and nature of, the attack. They watched as footage of Sam at a recent event was shown and then images of the chaos after Rosslyn. It was only when the wreckage of Mrs Landingham’s car was shown that Josh reached for the remote and turned the TV off. “They obviously haven’t got any details if they’re doing the curse of the Bartlet Administration as a story. Find a back way out if you can, the front’s swarming with press.” CJ nodded absently and grabbed for her coat before heading out of the room and down the maze of corridors which led to the elevator. 

 

It was another hour before Sam was moved to a room and Toby and Josh were told they could see him. They took the stairs to the next floor. Josh was trying not to think of the way he had spoken to Sam before he had left the restaurant earlier. Toby was just trying not to think of Sam, or the blood, or the sight of it running from Sam’s mouth. Toby went to the desk and asked for Sam’s room but was told to wait. He explained that he’d spent the last few hours waiting and would quite like to see Sam now as he’d just walked up two flights of stairs after being told by a Doctor Manning that he could see him. The nurse smiled sympathetically and told him to wait.

 

Thirty minutes later, Toby was sitting as close to the nurses’ desk as possible, throwing them an occasional glare. It hadn’t worked but one of the younger nurses looked relieved as she came over to him and told him that it was okay for him to visit now. A doctor had been by an hour ago and told them that the tests had shown no sign of serious head injury, but Toby wouldn’t be satisfied until he spoke to Sam himself. He looked over to where Josh had been sitting but couldn’t see him. He followed the nurse to Sam’s room and left worrying about Josh for later.

The room was in semi-darkness. Toby stopped at the end of the bed and looked at Sam before going any further. He thought Sam looked worse now than he had lying on the street. His wrist was in a cast and on his other arm the stab wound was covered with dressing. A dressing was also placed on the wound on his chest. Apart from the tubes inserted in Sam’s chest to treat his collapsed lung, it was the sight of his face which most shocked Toby. One of Sam’s eyes was swollen almost closed and the other surrounded by a swirl of purple and black. His lower lip was cut in two places and both cheeks were swollen and bruised. There seemed to be no part of his face which wasn’t covered by either a wound or bruise. 

Toby softly cleared his throat and moved nearer to the bed. “Sam.” There was no answer and so he moved nearer still and reached out. His hand stilled above Sam; there didn’t seem to be a space he could touch that wouldn’t cause him pain. Glancing behind he saw a chair against the wall and went to fetch it. He sat in silence for a few moments before calling Sam’s name again. This time Sam stirred and moved his arm slightly before turning his head away from the voice. Toby reached out and placed his hand on Sam’s carefully avoiding the cuts on his knuckles. He gained some satisfaction at the thought that Sam must have fought back before he was overcome. He rubbed the back of Sam’s hand with his thumb and waited. 

It took a few moments but then Sam’s eyes opened. He looked up at the ceiling and then closed them. Toby called his name and this time Sam tried to focus on more than the ceiling. He moved his head towards the voice but even that small movement caused pain to flash over him. His eyes closed again and Toby increased the pressure on his hand. “I’m here, Sam, try again.” 

Feet, hands, kicking and beating, that’s all Sam could remember. Toby was startled when Sam’s eyes suddenly opened wide in panic and he started to breathe in short harsh breaths. Toby stood up and called to him to calm down. A doctor appeared closely followed by a nurse and they too attempted to calm the panicked man. It was Toby’s voice that finally broke through to Sam. He turned his head towards him and allowed it to bring him away from the violence. 

“Sam, I’m Doctor Harris. You’re in hospital. Can you remember why you’re here?”

Toby listened as the doctor asked Sam a series of questions and then gave the nurse beside him a set of instructions. Sam was able to tell him where he was, what day it was and who the President was but when asked what had happened he shook his head and said that he couldn’t remember. Harris explained the worst of Sam’s injuries to him but before he could finish, Sam’s eyes had closed. He added some comments to the notes at the end of the bed and then walked over to Toby. “There are two policemen outside. Obviously they want to talk to Sam, but I think they want to ask you some questions as well.” 

Toby nodded and squeezed Sam’s hand before standing and following the doctor from the room. Outside, one of the officers was sipping from a cup of coffee but finished it and threw the cup in the bin on seeing Toby. 

 

“Mr Ziegler, the doctor’s told us that we won’t be able to speak to Mr Seaborn for a while so we’d appreciate it if you could tell us as much as you can about what happened.”

Toby nodded towards the seats they had vacated and they followed him over to them. “I didn’t see any of it and I didn’t see who attacked him. I came out of the restaurant because I thought he’d been gone a long time. I phoned his cell phone and heard it in the alleyway behind me.”

The older of the two officers nodded and turned a page of his notebook. “His phone was still with him, as was his watch, wallet and car keys.” Toby nodded unsure of where the question was leading. “Was Mr Seaborn working on anything at the moment that might have caused someone to have a, I don’t know, vendetta of some kind against him.”

“Sam works for the President of the United States, he’s always going to be working on something that might cause someone to have a vendetta against him.”

The officer smiled. “That’s a good point, Mr Ziegler. So there’s nothing that you can think of, no one’s been a nuisance or threatened Mr Seaborn recently?”

“Apart from me, no. Sam’s often in the public eye but in the past few weeks he’s been working on the State of the Union prep with me which pretty much keeps us chained to our desks.” Toby stood and looked back at Sam’s room. “I should get back there.” He handed the officer his card and thanked them. He looked around for Josh before returning to Sam’s room. There was no sign of him. 

 

An hour later, Sam woke again. “Just lay still, Sam. Try to relax.” Toby placed his hand over Sam’s and patted it.

“Cold,” Sam mumbled and Toby said he knew he was. He couldn’t see how a blanket could be placed over Sam at the moment without disturbing the tubes, drips and machines he was hooked up to. Toby rose saying he’d get a nurse just as the same doctor who had spoken to Toby earlier entered the room. “I thought you might wake up soon, Sam. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Cold,” Sam repeated a slight impatience to his voice.

“Okay, the nurses will do something about that. How’s your pain, on a scale of one to ten where are you?”

Sam frowned as if confused by the question. He closed his eyes but when he opened them he looked straight at the doctor. “Ten bad?”

Toby shook his head and smiled.

“Yes, Sam, ten is bad one is no pain.”

“Ten.” 

“Okay.” He grabbed the chart and added some notes before clipping it back onto the end bed and returning to Sam’s side. This time he bent down. “Sam, there are two police officers outside who’d like to ask you a few questions. Are you up to it?”

Sam glanced at Toby before looking back at the doctor and nodding slowly. The doctor squeezed Sam’s arm and stood up. “Let’s deal with your pain first then I’ll send them in.” Sam nodded again, it sounded like a good idea to him.

Toby returned to his chair and watched as a nurse added a blanket to the bed and laid a gown over Sam carefully avoiding the tubes. 

 

They weren’t the same officers that Toby had met earlier. They were both young, about the same age as Sam, Toby thought as he watched them approach the bed. “Mr Seaborn, I’m Officer Brooks and this is Officer Stevens.” Brooks looked at Toby as he introduced himself then focused on Sam. 

Officer Stevens stepped forward and pulled out his notebook. “Can you remember how many men attacked you, sir?”

Sam tried to sit up slightly but the effort was futile and merely resulted in a grimace and look of sympathy from the two officers. “Two, I think.”

“Okay and did you get a look at them or hear their voices?”

“Too dark, quick…happened quickly. One spoke…no accents.”

“Don’t worry, sir, you’re doing well. They didn’t take your watch, wallet or anything else is that right?” Sam nodded. “Did they speak to you? Did they say anything at all to you?”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t remember.”

Stevens nodded and turned a page on his book. “Did one of the men leave before the other one?” The question was met with silence. Sam glanced at Toby then closed his eyes. “Mr Seaborn? Sir, can you remember if the attackers left together or if one stayed longer? A witness working in a paper booth across from the alley says that he saw one man running out of it.”

Sam didn’t open his eyes but shook his head. “Can’t remember.”

“Okay, just one more question, sir, then we’ll leave you alone. Have you had any threats made against you recently or any idea why someone might want to attack you?”

“No.” Sam looked up at Stevens, “Don’t know why...did it...don’t know.”

Toby didn’t know how or why but he knew Sam was lying. He watched the officers leave the room and then moved his chair closer to the bed. Sam’s gaze remained on the door. 

“What aren’t you saying?” Toby asked but he knew there would be no answer and he slumped back into his chair as Sam closed his eyes and turned his face away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

A hand snaked out from beneath the covers and fumbled for the alarm clock. The buzzing didn’t stop and so another hand joined in the attempt to halt the noise. Once the phone had been pulled off its hook and the clock dropped on the floor, the person beneath the comforter woke enough to realise it wasn’t the phone or alarm making all the noise; it was the door buzzer. Feet were thrust into slippers, left foot in the right one and right foot in the left. A dressing gown was grabbed and eventually a light was switched on and a spy hole peered through.

“Josh!” Donna immediately pulled the chain away and unlocked the door. “What are you doing, it’s two am, what are you doing here?”

Josh’s reply was to stagger forward into Donna’s arms. Another time she would have made a joke about him finally falling for her but she knew that whatever had caused Josh to turn up drunk on her doorstep was nothing to joke about. “Let’s get you inside,” she muttered as she supported Josh into her apartment and onto the sofa. “I’ll make some coffee. If you need to throw-up please go that way,” she said as she pointed to the bathroom door and then left the room, closing the door to her bedroom on her way past. Josh didn’t move while she watched the coffee start its slow dripping journey into the jug below. She tried to work out what could have happened and thought about throwing the coffee over Josh’s head if he had come over seeking refuge from trouble with Amy. The sudden thought that Josh was meant to be out with Toby, CJ and Sam made her move quickly back into the living room. “Is everyone okay? I just realised, you were all out tonight. Did something happen?”

Josh’s head slowly rose and the look on his face made his words superfluous. “Yeah, something happened.” He swallowed and looked up at Donna. “Which direction was it again?”

It was after Josh had emptied his stomach of its largely alcoholic content that Donna led him back to the sofa, fetched the coffee and a large glass of water and sat beside him. “Tell me.”

Josh took a long sip of water and rolled the cool glass across his forehead before answering. “We were talking about Gillmore. Sam got mad then he walked, well stormed, out of the restaurant.”

Donna took the water away from him and replaced it with coffee. “And?” 

Josh shook his head. “I didn’t even think about how long he’d been…” She took the cup out of his now trembling hands. “Toby went…he went to look for him. I didn’t. He went …he was…they beat him up.”

Donna scooted around so she was looking directly at Josh. “Who was beaten up? Toby?”

“No, not Toby! Sam, Sam was in the alley…it was Sam. They’d cut him too he was bleeding. I didn’t go look for him.”

“Oh my God, Josh!” Donna’s hand flew to her mouth and Josh looked up at her wide eyes. She took his hand. “Stay here, sober up, then go see Sam in the morning.”

Josh nodded. He lay down on the sofa and in a move that surprised Donna, rested his head on her lap. She stayed until he was asleep, covered him with a blanket and then went back to bed. She watched muted footage of Sam’s attack on CNN. She woke four hours later to find the television still silently splashing pictures into her room. The story hadn’t changed.

 

Toby had been home for an hour, changed and eaten. He had removed his blood soaked shirt, thrown it away and changed into something more comfortable, pretty sure he would be spending most of the day ahead on plastic chairs which he was certain weren’t designed to be sat on for longer than an hour. He was grateful it was Saturday and he didn’t have to worry about going into work. The doctor had told him that Sam would probably not wake for a few hours but Toby had been as quick as he could getting back to the hospital to make sure he was there when Sam woke up.

He discovered he could have spent a few hours more at home. Sam was still asleep when he arrived and remained so for two hours more. A doctor and two nurses had checked on him by the time he finally opened his eyes. A soft sigh was Toby’s first indication that Sam was waking. A small rustle of material and then a short moan as Sam tried but failed to sit up. A different nurse appeared and cheerily said good morning to Sam. She raised the head of the bed slightly and completed the same checks on the tube running from Sam’s chest as the nurses before her. “You’ve got a visitor, Sam, time to open those remarkable eyes of yours.”

Toby didn’t think Sam’s eyes were remarkable. He couldn’t picture them as anything but filled with pain and fear. He’d somehow lost all memory of their incredible hue and the spark that ignited within them when Sam was fired up about something. He found himself not wanting Sam to open his eyes just in case that spark had been extinguished for good.

“Go ‘way.” 

The nurse simply smiled at Sam’s bad tempered greeting. “Come on, Sam, open up. It’s time to wake up now. Maybe have some breakfast?”

Another sigh, then silence, then Sam’s eyes slowly opened. He blinked and squinted against the sunlight and Toby stood and walked towards the window pulling the blinds until the sun was blocked out. When he returned, Sam was looking up at him and Toby was relieved to see his eyes showed only tiredness. The pleading look that had moulded itself to Toby’s mind had gone.

“Toby.” Sam raised his hand slightly and Toby took hold of it. “You stay all night?”

“I’ve been home. It’s no problem. You’d do the same for me.” Toby patted Sam’s hand and then reached for the jug of water by his bed. “You want some?” Sam nodded and waited while Toby poured a small amount into a cup and helped Sam to drink it. “How do you feel?”

“Better than last night.” Sam looked up at Toby and smiled before letting his eyes slowly close again. “Drugs good,” he said slowly and then his head rolled slightly away as he once more returned to a much needed sleep.

 

Toby was tucking into a breakfast in the cafeteria when Josh arrived. By the time Toby was ready to return, Josh had been sitting by Sam’s bed for fifteen minutes. He had a copy of The Post but it was unread and sat neatly rolled on his lap. “Did you stay all night?” Josh asked on seeing Toby enter the room.

A noncommittal mumble was the reply as Toby walked over to the window and fetched a chair from beneath it. “Did you drink all night?” 

Josh flashed a look at Toby ready to defend himself but realising there was no malice behind the question he answered that he’d been drinking for most of it. “The rest was spent on Donna’s sofa.” Josh looked back at Sam who hadn’t moved since Toby had left over thirty minutes earlier. 

“They’re going to take the tubes out this morning. They said it’s done whatever it was supposed to be doing.” Toby reached for Sam’s hand. It was difficult to hold; the cast came down to his knuckles but Toby looped his fingers around the ones that emerged from the rigid support. “They said his wrist should take a few weeks to heal. The stab wound on his arm is deep and he’ll need some physio.”

Josh nodded and stared at Sam’s hand lying on the bed beside him. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay.”

Toby glanced at Josh then returned his gaze to Sam. “Who are you apologising to, me or him?”

Josh ignored him and his hand moved towards the bed. It hovered over Sam’s for a moment and then Josh stood up abruptly. “I need to head in. Can you write a statement for CJ?”

“I sent it over an hour ago.” Toby turned his attention back to Sam. “You go, if you think that’s where you should be.”

Josh stopped putting on his coat and turned back to Toby. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Toby was about to tell Josh exactly what it meant when the entrance of a doctor halted his words. Toby and Josh were ushered outside. Josh was halfway down the corridor before Toby had made it through the door. Toby shook his head and took a seat opposite the agent that had been posted outside Sam’s room. He thought about CJ and wondered how she was coping with not only Sam’s attack but the fallout from the Gillmore revelations. He wondered if that was why Josh was finding it so awkward to be with Sam now. He thought back to the meeting three weeks ago when things had gone disastrously wrong between them.

 

Leo took the piece of paper from Margaret and read it silently. CJ glanced at Toby and raised her eyebrows. Leo seemed to be taken aback by what he was reading. He sat down at his desk and removed his glasses. “It’s not our problem anymore. Tom Gillmore has resigned, apologised and withdrawn his accusations.”

The news that the man who had been hounding Leo with fresh accusations of alcohol and drug abuse, evidence of secret AA meetings at the White House and supposed evidence that Leo had fallen off the wagon during the campaign, was suddenly no longer a problem should have prompted cheers of celebration amongst the Senior Staff. It did not. It simply caused confusion as to why a man so determined to bring down the Chief of Staff would suddenly give up and, what’s more, retract all of his accusations publicly. 

Toby scratched his head. “This is…it’s good, but unnerving.”

“I’ll say,” Sam agreed. 

Margaret entered again and told Leo to turn on the TV. He picked up the remote and didn’t have to ask which channel; Gillmore was on every news station. Toby stopped pacing and stood by the screen as revelations about Gillmore’s wife’s drink and drug dependency were broadcast. Pictures of her leaving a clinic mid-week were shown shortly followed by pictures of her at a DC function being helped into her car. The images caused a silence to fall over the room. A defeated and emotional Tom Gillmore appeared on screen and begged for his wife to be left alone.

Leo switched the TV off and dropped the remote back onto the desk. “Who did this?” 

Toby sat down beside Josh and shook his head. “There are a number of people who would want to see him go down, Republicans included. Just be glad that you’re off his agenda now.”

“Be glad? I’m supposed to be glad that his wife has been dragged into the public eye at a time when she clearly needs to be getting some help? I’m supposed to be glad about her being a victim of the media because of me?”

“Yes,” Toby answered simply. “No one would have wanted it this way but it’s happened so we just have to forget the less than good circumstances and be grateful for the consequences.”

“I’d have rather been indicted than see someone else used like this.” 

“No you wouldn’t!” Josh had remained silent since entering the room but now he stood and walked over to Leo’s desk. “You wouldn’t have survived a second time. You needed this to go away and now it has.”

Leo sat back in his chair and stared at Josh. He remembered how Josh had been last Christmas during the hearings, how he spent days trying to find a way to get Leo out of them. He thought back to Josh and Sam going to Laurie and asking her for a name to use as blackmail. He thought about how Josh had been distant the past couple of weeks, secretive and had seemed so stressed until a few days ago. “Did you do this?”

The question took everyone by surprise. Josh looked down at the floor and then looked back up at Leo. He let a small chuff of nervous laughter escape. “Of course I didn’t.”

Leo relaxed and smiled tightly. “Good, because that’s not how we do things and for me to be saying that to you shows how far we’ve gone off track lately.” He picked up his notes and was about to move on when Sam stood up and spoke to Josh’s back.

“Why did you meet with Emerson last Thursday?”

Only Leo could see the look that flashed across Josh’s face. By the time he turned around his expression was neutral. “Because we both appreciate a good Thai meal and things were slow on the Hill.”

Sam stepped towards him. “Emerson worked for Gillmore. He worked for him for three years. Gillmore fired him last March, no one knows why and Emerson hasn’t worked since, can’t get a job. Gillmore has made sure of that.”

“What exactly are you saying, Sam? Are you suggesting I employ Emerson for some temp work?”

“Did you do this?” Sam repeated Leo’s question. 

“Look, everyone in this room is relieved beyond words that Gillmore is off the scene and sure, let’s be noble and empathetic about the plight of Mrs Gillmore but let’s not suddenly pretend we’d go back and change what happened if we could. There are always going to be victims of-”

“Did you do it?” Sam asked again. Toby sat further forward ready to stop Sam from hurling himself at Josh. His body language and tone of voice indicating he was ready to do just that. 

Josh stared at Sam and tried to ignore the disappointment that he saw on his face. “No. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

The tension left Sam and mistaking it for relief, everyone else in the room relaxed as well. It came as even more of a shock then when Sam took a step closer to Josh and in a voice filled with quiet anger spat, “Liar!”

“Sam!” Josh’s incredulous tone did little to appease Sam. Their eyes met for a brief second and then Josh quickly looked away.

“You’ve got a pretty bad poker face, Josh.” Sam shook his head and before Josh could reply, stormed out of the office.

 

Toby tried to remember if he had seen Sam and Josh talk since that meeting and came to the conclusion that he hadn’t. Sam had taken Josh’s actions against Tom Gillmore almost personally. It was as if all the disappointments, lies and betrayals of the past couple of years had been encompassed by that one act of Josh’s. He had known the two men had grown distant recently but always assumed their friendship pre-dated their time in office and would outlast it as well. Josh had made no attempt to talk to Sam. In a staff meeting called later that day he had explained that he had never meant for the news about Gillmore’s wife to become public. It was just supposed to get to Gillmore that they knew about it. Bartlet had shaken his head. “Oh, blackmail, well that’s okay then, as long as you haven’t done anything morally reprehensible!” The last word had been shouted and Toby had winced as Josh visibly jumped at the sound of it.

 

The sound of the door to Sam’s room opening drew Toby away from his thoughts and he stood and approached the doctor. “How’s he doing?”

“Not too bad, considering. His lung has responded well to treatment. That was my main concern. Some of his injuries will need a certain amount of therapy but they’ll heal too, given time.”

“Can I sit with him?”

“Please. He’s awake but I doubt he will be for long.”

Toby nodded and headed for the door. He didn’t care if Sam was awake or not, he’d sit and watch him for as long as he needed to in order to dispel the images from the alleyway. Sam’s eyes were closed but he was awake. He looked relieved on opening them to find only Toby sitting there. “Some agents are coming to talk to me later.”

“Are they? You best get some sleep now then.” Toby sat back in the chair knowing he would be staying until the agents had finished questioning Sam.

“Can’t.” Sam closed his eyes despite his protest. Toby soon knew what Sam meant though. Every time he seemed to be drifting off he would start as if shaken. His eyes would spring open and his breathing quicken. The third time this happened he kept his gaze fixed on Toby as his breathing slowed. “Keep seeing…”

“I know,” Toby soothed. He could imagine the sorts of things Sam would be seeing every time he closed his eyes. 

Toby marvelled at how natural it felt to be comforting Sam. “Shall I get a nurse? Do you want something to help you sleep?”

“No. I’ll just close my eyes and rest.” Sam’s eyes closed again but this time he felt the hands on his arm and head and sleep, although fitful, soon came.

 

Josh’s shoes had become a source of fascination. They were propped up on his desk and he had been staring at them for the past thirty minutes. Donna had looked in on him twice and both times had thought better of disturbing him. His eyes were fixed on his shoes but his mind was stuck on the words he had said to Sam in the restaurant the night of the attack. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t find a reason to justify what he had said or the venom with which he had said it. He couldn’t rid his mind of the look on Sam’s face or on Toby’s as he had sat at the table in silence until finally going after Sam.

“What is it with you? Sam Seaborn, the idealist of the White House, dreaming of utopia while the rest of us get the work done. Do you really think there’s a place for guys like you in government apart from making the rest of us look good?”

Josh winced as he remembered the silence that had followed. He hadn’t meant a word of what he’d said but Sam’s inability to move past what had happened with Gillmore had made him livid. Josh closed his eyes and hoped Sam didn’t remember the words as clearly as he could. He hoped that he only remembered the friendship they’d had and not what it had become.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

“You did room five?”

“Yeah, I thought I was doing the odd.”

“No, that’s at the weekends. I’m doing odd you’re doing even.”

“Where does it say that?”

“On the new rota. It’s on the notice board, only been up since Tuesday though.”

Sam listened as the conversation faded as the two hospital workers passed his room. The sound of their squeaking trolley lingered long behind their voices. There was a faint slither of light coming into his room from between the closed curtains. It fell across the empty chair beside his bed. He was glad it was empty. Toby had stayed for most of the day and Sam was grateful for it but he needed some time alone. He needed to think. He tried to remember exactly what he had said to the police officers the day before but couldn’t. He remembered Toby’s face though; he knew Toby knew he was hiding something. He had dreaded the agents coming. He knew Toby would want to stay and he didn’t want him to feel bad when he asked him not to. In the end they had arrived while Toby had been making some calls. Sam had told them more or less what he had told the officers. He was certain that the people who had attacked him were not a danger to anyone else. The message had been clear, the attack was payback for Josh’s actions and the debt had been paid. His mind was put even more to rest when Ron had told him that until his attackers were caught, a detail had been assigned to every member of the Senior Staff.

A cleaner had entered the room and asked if he wanted the curtains opened. Sam nodded and watched as the streak of light widened until the whole room was painted with the hues of a DC sunrise. He closed his eyes and tried to make himself comfortable but his arm and wrist throbbed and no matter which way he moved some part of his body protested. 

“It’s not everyone who has an agent outside the door,” the cleaner said as she emptied the trash can. “I was hoping I might get frisked.” Sam smiled at the comment and she winked as she took Sam’s empty water jug away and left him to his thoughts. It was Sunday, and Sam was pretty sure he wouldn’t have any visitors until later in the day. He’d told Toby to downplay what had happened when his parents called. The last thing he needed was to watch them trying to be civil to each other over his hospital bed. 

 

Tell Josh Lyman that this is for Gillmore.

The words spoken by his attacker haunted him. Sam shivered as he remembered the man’s breath on his face and the pain that followed the words. Sam knew he should tell someone, the police, Ron, Toby. But, he also knew that would lead to a situation that he didn’t think he could face, was certain Josh couldn’t face and knew was the last thing the administration needed. More than that though, he just simply wanted to forget. He wanted to be able to close his eyes without reliving the attack and he wanted to get back to normal. Sam grimaced at the thought. There was no normal anymore. His parents’ marriage was a sham, the man he had believed was the real thing had turned out to be just as bogus and his best friend had become someone he didn’t know. He turned his face away from the sunlight and closed his eyes once more.

 

Ron shifted in his seat and waited for Bartlet to ask his next question.

“So, we haven’t caught Sam’s attackers, we don’t know who they are, what they look like or have any idea of their motives?” Ron nodded and tried in vain to think of something positive he could tell the President.

“We do have some witnesses.”

“Do they know who they are, what they look like and what the motive was?” Bartlet asked.

“No,” Ron answered, well used to Bartlet’s way of displaying his disappointment and frustration. He knew that if he waited a while longer the sarcasm would fade and a more pragmatic approach be adopted. He watched as Bartlet stood and walked over to the windows. Outside he could see John and Terry. John had got married last May. His wife was expecting and this would be John’s last month with the service. Ron’s thought process moved on to the current members of his staff and how he would replace John before Bartlet turned around again and walked back to the sofa.

“What’s going on here, Ron? This wasn’t a mugging. You’ve assigned a detail to every senior staffer. There’s this business of two attackers and one leaving before the other. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ron sat back in his chair, relieved the President had gotten over his initial anger at hearing Ron’s news. “I’m not keeping anything from you, sir, but until Sam’s attackers are found I’d be failing in my duty if I don’t respond to this as a targeted attack on a White House staffer and act accordingly.” Bartlet raised his eyebrows, the suggestion that Ron hadn’t answered the question satisfactorily, clear. “I’m also not happy with the fact that one of the attackers left the other.”

“One lost his nerve or was spooked or just didn’t want to take it as far as the other?” Bartlet suggested.

“Possibly, but it’s also possible that this was a planned attack and somewhere along the way the plan went astray.”

Bartlet shook his head and folded his arms. “What did Sam tell you?”

“He couldn’t remember too much. I was hoping he’d have heard them talking or at least be able to give us some clue about why they split up or rather why one of them stayed.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” The question was direct and took Ron by surprise. He knew Sam had been lying to him but he had no idea why Bartlet would suspect it.

“I’m going to talk to him again,” Ron answered diplomatically.

“Good.” Bartlet nodded. 

 

Just as Sam had thought, Toby arrived later in the day after an unintended lie-in. He had set his alarm for seven intending to go to the office and then visit Sam but had slept through it and after a breakfast which was really lunch, decided that the office could wait until Monday.

“How are you feeling?” Toby asked as he walked over to Sam’s bed.

Sam tried to raise himself but he was still too tired and in too much pain to accomplish little more than a small shuffle upwards.

“You want this up?” Toby asked gesturing to the lever by the side of the bed.

“Sure,” Sam answered and tried not to feel pathetic as Toby bent down and started to raise the head of the bed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So, how’re you feeling?”

Sam shrugged but then looked at Toby’s face and realised he wanted an honest answer. “Tired, I guess.” Toby rolled his eyes. “Okay, exhausted. My arm aches, my chest hurts, every breath I take makes me feel like my ribs are about to explode. I can’t do anything with this stupid cast on and my other arm aches so much that I can hardly move it.” Sam shrugged again. “You asked!”

“I did and you certainly told me.” Toby scooted his chair around so he was facing the bed. “What can I do?”

Sam’s expression softened at Toby’s earnest question. “Nothing, unless you want to become Perry Mason and go out and find the bad guys for me?”

“I would, but I haven’t got a wheelchair.”

“That was Ironside,” Sam corrected.  
“Ah, well in that case…” Toby’s words trailed off and Sam smiled at him awkwardly. In the silence that followed a nurse took Sam’s temperature.

“It’s a little high, Sam. Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”

Sam glanced guiltily at the nearly full jug before replying that he was and wincing at the nurse’s frown.

“I’ll go get you some fresh. You have to drink as much as you can even if you don’t feel like it.”

Sam nodded obediently and watched her leave the room, little splashes from the jug marking her trail behind her. He looked up at the window and then back at Toby. “Do you think I should have been able to fight them off?”

Toby’s eyes widened in surprise at the question. He had always found Sam’s thought processes difficult to follow at the best of times but the idea that Sam thought people might think he was somehow to blame for what had happened was the last thing he had imagined Sam would be thinking. “Why on earth would you… Sam, people don’t think anything like that. If they think anything at all it’s how grateful they are that I didn’t find you dead in that alleyway. Do you honestly think that’s what people are saying?”

“No. I don’t know. No, I suppose not. It’s just I was thinking about it and I don’t think I put up much of fight. I thought they were going to take my wallet or something I thought if I just played along they would go.”

Toby reached out and held Sam’s arm above the cast. He held it tightly and made sure Sam was looking straight at him. “But they weren’t there to steal your wallet. They were there to beat the living crap out of you. The fact that you didn’t fight back probably saved your life. Anyway,” Toby turned Sam’s hand over to reveal his scarred knuckles, “what do you think these are? You fought back, Sam, but you didn’t stand a chance. No one would have.” 

Sam held Toby’s gaze and nodded. His head relaxed against the pillow and he closed his eyes. “So damn tired.”

“Sleep then,” Toby answered. He listened to Sam’s mumbled reply and watched as he fell asleep. Reaching below him he pulled a file from a bag and a red pen and set to work.

 

It was an hour before Sam woke. His waking was not a gentle one; his hands and head moved restlessly then he gasped as his eyes suddenly opened wide.

“Take it easy, you’re okay,” Toby said as Sam tried to rid himself of the fear lingering from his nightmare.

“Sorry…just need…sorry.” His chest rose and fell at a pace that Toby was sure wasn’t good for his healing lung and ribs.

“Sam, it’s okay, just try to relax.” He placed his hand on Sam’s head and pushed the hair that was plastered to Sam’s forehead away. 

“God, Toby, I can’t get it out of my head.” 

“Of course you can’t. You’re expecting too much of yourself.” Toby stood up and walked over to the bedside table. “Here, the nurse brought you some more water and made certain threats that I think somehow include me too about what would happen if the jug wasn’t half full by the time she returned.” He set about pouring a cup out and was pleased to see Sam’s chest was already rising in a more even rhythm. He held the cup out but Sam made no attempt to lift his hands and let Toby guide it to his mouth. He drank half of it before turning away. Toby filled it again and took it back with him to his chair. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you get out of here?”

“I really don’t think I’ll be able to type, maybe Ginger could type from my dictation or I could-”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant about where you’re going to go, who you’re going to stay with.”

Sam’s puzzled expression made it clear that it wasn’t something he had thought. “I’ll be fine. The woman in the apartment opposite me comes over some-”

“What about Josh?”

Sam’s expression changed but Toby couldn’t read it. “What about Josh?”

“Well, you spent more time at his place after the shooting than your own, maybe he’d want to do the same for you now.”

Sam’s gaze returned to the window and Toby instantly regretted bringing Josh up. The two men had hardly said a word to each other since the Gillmore incident and said little that wasn’t work related in the months before that. The argument in the restaurant before the attack was still vivid in Toby’s mind and, he suspected, Sam’s too. Nonetheless, Toby believed that what had happened may force the two friends to move on and at the very least try to sort out their differences. Sam showed no interest in anything beyond the tops of the trees peeking just above the windowsill. Toby rubbed at his forehead and tried again. “So, do you think maybe he would?” 

“I honestly don’t have the first idea what Josh would or wouldn’t want at the moment and to be honest I’m not sure I care that much.” He turned slowly towards Toby and looked even more tired than he had before. “If I can’t manage on my own then, if it’s alright with you, if I can’t manage then I’d like to stay with you.”

Toby couldn’t help raising his eyebrows at Sam’s request any more than he could help the small smile that flashed across his face. It didn’t linger but then Toby’s smiles rarely did. “It makes sense. I can drive you into work and if you’re not up to it I can come home early or stay late or whatever and we can work at my place.”

“Yeah, it makes sense,” Sam agreed but his eyes were already closing. “Tired, Toby, think I’ll….just…close…” 

Toby pulled the sheet further up Sam’s chest and went back to his work. He’d stay a little while. Sam didn’t seem to sleep for long. Toby had never been in a position where he’d had to look after anyone before but now that he was he was finding a sense of satisfaction from knowing he was needed, not for his ideas or ways of expressing the ideas of others but for who he was and what his presence meant to someone who so clearly needed the strength of another. Toby almost grimaced at his emotional thought process and set to editing his latest speech with an even more ruthless red pen than usual.

 

“Hold on, Josh.” Leo walked out from behind his desk and towards the open door. “Margaret, are these-” On seeing she wasn’t at her desk he returned to his and gestured for Josh to sit down. “I’ve spoken to Cara Reeves about the Medicare package and she wants to meet with Congressman…hold on,” Leo stood up and walked towards the door. “Margaret, are these to read or sign?”

“Read and sign, or you can just sign if you want to but then you won’t know what you’re signing and if you read but don’t sign you may forget when you do come to sign what you-”

“I’m not listening anymore.” Leo walked back into the room, mumbled something about crazy people and sat down. “Sorry, Josh. Okay, Reeves wants to meet with Congressman Blake to look again at sections two and three.”

Josh sat forward and ran a hand through his hair. “This is just a time wasting stunt. We’ve discussed this and reached a consensus. Reeves was there; she said aye!”

“We’re going ahead with the meeting. That’s not the issue. I just want you to hold fire on working on those sections until they’ve had a chance to go over it again.”

“So you want me to sit there and listen to their objections and suggestions which we both know we’re going to ignore?”

“No, I don’t.” 

“You want, hang on, you want me to agree with them?” Josh’s tone was incredulous a smile danced across his face at the mere suggestion of agreeing with Reeves and Blake.

“No, I don’t want you there at all. I want Toby to sit there and listen to their objections and suggestions which we both know we’re going to ignore.”

A silence followed in which Leo would have welcomed an interruption by Margaret with some inane information or request. Josh remained behind the sofa, a quizzical expression replacing the smile of earlier. “You’re keeping me out of the room?”

Leo picked up a pen and lifted the first paper from the stack before him. “Yeah. We’re just recovering from Gillmore. It’s been a hell of a setback. I know why you did it and on some level I appreciate that, I also know what happened wasn’t what you intended but the outcome is that I’m not putting you in any room with a Republican at the moment and certainly not one who has been on national television calling for your resignation.”

Josh quickly moved from behind the sofa and walked up to Leo’s desk. “Oh come on, Leo. You think I can’t handle that? Every Republican has called for my resignation at some time or other.”

“Yeah, but they’re not usually joined by members of our own party.”

The words hit Josh as hard as if Leo had reached over the desk and punched him in the gut. He knew how bad the fallout of the Gillmore accusations had been but no one had made it as plain to him as Leo just had. The facts weren’t fully known but Gillmore had said enough to make it clear Josh had been involved with the story of his wife’s problems. Josh didn’t know why or how the information he had been given to threaten Gillmore with had also been leaked to the press. He wasn’t responsible for it and had no idea it would happen. He felt the same guilt though as if he had done it himself though.

Leo’s expression softened and he placed his pen and paper back down. “And I don’t think you’re anywhere near your usual form right now and until you get back in the game you’re not going nowhere near any situation that could turn into another story that gets its own daily segment on Fox.” The paper and pen were lifted once more and Leo scribbled his signature down before looking back up. “Talk to Toby, if you can drag him away from the hospital, brief him on Blake and tell him to phone Reeves before the meeting.” The paper was placed face down and another lifted from the pile. Josh stood and stared at Leo but his head was down now and Josh knew the conversation was over.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“Blue-eyed, dark-haired, attractive, professional man seeks professional woman aged thirty to forty.” CJ folded the newspaper out over Sam’s legs and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Sam, is there something you want to share?” CJ looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.

Sam smiled and shook his head. “Stop reading the personal ads and tell me some real news.”

CJ started to fold the paper. “There is no real news. No countries need invading, the President hasn’t ridden into a tree recently, the economy’s tickety-boo…”

“Tickety what?”

“Boo. There hasn’t been any freak weather, no one’s missing, and no one famous has died. I spent five minutes in my last briefing talking about the culinary expertise of the White House Chef.”

Sam frowned. “On a whim?”

“It was related to the visit of the French Ambassador.” CJ held the badly folded paper on her lap and sighed. “I think he has a problem with vegetables.”

“The Chef?”

“The French Ambassador,” she corrected.

Sam nodded as if that made perfect sense and then reached for a glass of water. CJ quickly leaned over and passed it to him. She hadn’t mentioned Josh or Gillmore or anything remotely connected to them and Sam was grateful for it. “I’m getting discharged in a few days.” 

CJ smiled and ignored the weary tone of Sam’s voice. “Well that’s good. Though I think you should know that Toby bought some new bedding to match the colour scheme of the spare room. He’s turning into a domesticated...something.”

“Friend,” Sam supplied quietly though the power of Sam’s meaning made volume unnecessary. 

CJ reached out and covered Sam’s hand with her own. “Josh hasn’t been to see you because he feels guilty. He’s not staying away because he doesn’t want to see you. Leo’s giving him a hard time and he’s just being Josh and shutting himself away.”

“So am I supposed to try to make him feel better?”

“No.” CJ wrapped her fingers around Sam’s hand which hadn’t responded to her touch. “Calm down. No, you’re not. I just want you to try to forget what happened and concentrate on getting well again and you won’t if you hold on to what happened. He screwed up, he knows he did and he’s paying for it.” CJ tried squeezing the hand that lay limply in hers. “You can blame Josh for many things and God knows I do, but you can’t blame him for what’s happened to you and I think in his way he feels-”

“Okay, just…I don’t want to talk about it, can we talk about something else?” Finally Sam reciprocated CJ’s hold on his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

CJ nodded but she kept her gaze on Sam until he turned away uncomfortably. “Talk to Toby. If you won’t talk to me, talk to Toby.”

Sam’s head slowly turned back and he nodded. “So tell me about this bedding. Did he actually go to a store and pick them out himself?”

“Ginger did, but Toby gave her a square of wallpaper and told her to buy something masculine to match it.” She leant back in her chair and told Sam how relentless she and Ginger had been in their teasing and was glad to see that some of her tale even made Sam laugh.

 

The door had been closed for three hours. Donna finished the paragraph she was typing and then walked to the office. She knocked gently and then more loudly. She waited and then knocked again, this time calling for Josh to open the door. There was a slight pause and then Josh called for her to come in. The blinds were pulled down and the only light in the room was from the lamp on Josh’s desk illuminating the papers and files which were strewn across it. He tie was hanging loosely from his neck and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Donna closed the door behind her and waited. Eventually Josh pushed a book away from him and looked up at her. Donna read the title before moving closer to the desk to see that the other books and files were concerning the same subject; Medicare. In a bid to take his mind off it, Donna brought up the worst subject she could have chosen. “Ginger said that Sam’s getting discharged today.”

Josh stood up and started to roll down his sleeves. “Well thanks for dropping by, Donna, anytime you want to pop in and try to make me feel better again just say the word.”

“Don’t get snippy with me because you’re jealous of Toby!”

Josh laughed at the accusation. “I’m jealous of Toby? Do you think Sam would like me better if I gave him my baseball card collection?”

“Okay, that was, not jealous then, but you’re pissed that he doesn’t need you. Although maybe the whole not visiting thing made him think that you weren’t that bothered if he needed you or not.”

Josh’s hands stilled then fell to his sides. “We’re done. You can go.” His tone made it clear just how far he thought Donna had overstepped the line. She hurried back to her desk without trying to appease him and cursed herself for allowing her feelings at seeing Josh in such a state make her speak so candidly when she knew he wouldn’t be receptive to it. 

Josh pulled up the blinds and watched a bird struggling with a worm that was clearly determined to stay in the ground. He watched as the bird won the struggle and flew away with it dangling from its beak. He rubbed at his eyes and laid his forehead against the cool glass. He thought about Mrs Gillmore and the latest pictures of the disgraced Congressman’s wife. He thought about Sam and how he had looked when he realised what Josh had done. He thought about the stupidity of trusting a man with a personal score to settle with information against the man who had wronged him. He thought about Sam’s face as Toby had knelt beside him wiping away the blood from Sam’s mouth and trying desperately not to show Sam how much the sight frightened him. Finally, he thought about Sam not needing him anymore, staying with Toby, confiding in Toby, recovering with Toby’s help and Josh tried to think of a more intellectual label for his emotions than jealousy.

 

“I can take it, just hand it to me.” Sam stood by the trunk of Toby’s car and waited for him to hand his bag over.

Toby didn’t move and finally Sam asked what he was doing. “I’m thinking about which hand I should pass it to, the one with the broken wrist or the one attached to an arm which has a knife wound.”

Sam sighed and lifted his arm towards Toby. “Just put it on this shoulder.” Toby lifted the bag from the trunk and carefully avoiding the cast on Sam’s wrist, placed the strap on his shoulder. “Thank you!” Sam turned towards Toby’s house and started towards the steps. Toby locked the car and easily caught up to Sam. “Okay, I think I’ve made my point. You can carry it the rest of the way.”

Rolling his eyes, Toby took the bag from Sam. He swung it over his shoulder and used his free arm to support Sam who was clearly flagging from the effort of the short walk from the car to the stoop. By the time they reached the door, Sam was leaning against him and not caring at all that his earlier claims of being fine had been so disproved. 

Inside, Toby put the bag in the spare room while Sam sat on the sofa and closed his eyes. He was asleep before Toby returned with a glass of juice. He sat down on the chair opposite Sam and drank the juice himself. He decided that when Sam woke up and had something to eat he would broach the subject of Josh. They couldn’t go on like this. Toby knew that Sam had accepted that Josh had never intended for the information about Mrs Gillmore’s wife to be leaked, that he merely wanted it to be used to warn him off. The fact that he had been involved at all though had hit Sam hard but Toby suspected what had really hit was how little he knew his friend now, how far they had drifted apart. Sam had carried on, albeit shakily, after he found out about his father’s affair and then the MS. Toby figured that Josh’s deceit had simply become a focus for Sam’s unresolved anger and sense of betrayal and he knew it was going to take time for Sam to come to terms with it. Time they had, it was finding a way for either man to make the first move that was the problem. 

The nagging thought that Sam was holding something back was bothering Toby too. His refusal to talk about the attack was worrying as was his sketchy recount of the incident to the police and agents. Toby knew when Sam was holding out on him and he recognised when Sam was doing it to others. What he couldn’t work out was why. He gulped back the last of the juice and took the glass to the kitchen. He took the phone with him and called Josh. Whether he was pretending to be interested or not, Toby knew Josh would want to know that Sam was out of the hospital and doing okay. 

 

Four hours later, Sam was sitting on the sofa again after having had a shower and was eating Margaret’s homemade soup and feeling more human than he had since waking up in the hospital. “When we leave office, Margaret should open her own soup shop.” Sam carried on despite Toby’s bemused expression. “It’d be great. It could be called Margaret’s Chief of Soup Shop.”

Toby shook his head and flicked through the TV channels. “There was a moment in the hospital before you woke up that I wondered if when you did you’d magically start making sense to me. It’s clear that’s not going to be the case.”

Sam smiled and scooped up the last of the delicious liquid. “Are you going into work tomorrow?” Toby nodded and Sam continued. “I’ve got a friend coming over. Is that okay?”

“I’m not sure, do his parents know?”

Sam ignored him and carried on. “It’s Chris Deever. I used to work with him in New York. He’s running a practice in Chicago now, just a small one but he’s doing some interesting things over there, a lot of environmental cases and land right issues. It’s the sort of thing he always-”

“You’re not leaving the White House if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “I’m not.”

“Good, just so long as you know that would be happening over my dead body.” Toby spoke casually but Sam realised that his quitting was something Toby had obviously thought about and was something he clearly didn’t want to happen.

“I’m not thinking of leaving, Toby. It hadn’t even entered my head. I may be down about a few things right now but I still have a job to do.”

Toby nodded and grumbled ‘good’ before returning to his task of trying to find something that both he and Sam would want to watch.

They watched half of a documentary about 2nd World War spy missions, ten minutes of a cop show and fifteen minutes of a quiz show. It was during the Spinner Takes All round that Sam started questioning the accuracy of the quiz’s questions and Toby decided an early night would be in order. He followed Sam to the spare room and showed him how to set the alarm and make the temperamental bedside lamp work. Satisfied that his guest was settled, Toby headed for his own room. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to Sam. “I’m just down the corridor if you need anything. If you don’t feel well or something don’t worry about waking me, that’s what I’m here for.”

Sam wished some of the people that only ever saw the gruff Toby could see this side of him too. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, goodnight then.” Toby pulled the door to but didn’t close it. Sam stood and stared at the new bedding. It still had that brand new linen smell. Sam smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Ten minutes later he was under the covers fast asleep and unaware of the head that peeked around the doorway at him.

 

Toby wasn’t at all surprised when he heard the muffled yell and nonsensical words coming from Sam’s room in the early hours of the morning. Despite Sam’s pretence at being fine, Toby knew the attack had affected him deeply. Toby pulled on a pair of sweat pants before walking quickly down the corridor to the spare room. Sam had quietened but he was restless and Toby watched as the movements gradually increased and were accompanied by moans. Sam cursed vehemently at his dream conjured attackers. His hand balled into a tight fist but his curses turned into pleas and Toby bit his lip as he listened to the increasing fear in Sam’s voice. He took a few steps toward the bed but hesitated, not sure if waking Sam was a good idea or not. In the end the decision was made for him as Sam started to move in a way that Toby was sure would result in him damaging his injuries further. He spoke Sam’s name loudly but there was no response. When Sam curled up dangerously close to the edge of the bed, Toby sprung forward and grabbed his arm. “Sam, wake up!” It was enough to pull Sam at least halfway out of his nightmare and gentle shakes and repeated calls of his name pulled him into wakefulness. Sam lay staring up at Toby a look of confusion on his face that made Toby wonder if Sam still thought he was in the alley, coming round to find Toby leaning above him. Hastily he reached over and switched on the bedside lamp and watched as Sam’s eyes closed and then slowly opened, one first, then the other as if getting used to the light and ensuring that his nightmare had ended.

Sam concentrated on calming his breathing and then immediately apologised for waking Toby. He leant back onto the pillows and then moved forward suddenly. “Did I say anything?”

“Say anything?” Toby repeated, slightly confused at the question, “Only the standard nightmare mumblings, nothing specific.” He noticed Sam’s look of relief. “Why, is there something you’re afraid to say?” He knew he wasn’t playing fair, Sam was still recovering from the dream and trying to get his breathing back to a normal rate.

“No! I just…you know, you say things and you don’t know what, I just…” Sam shrugged and picked up his watch. “Man, it’s three o’clock. I’m sorry. You don’t need this.”

“I’ll be the judge of what I do or don’t need and right now it’s a cup of tea. You want one?” 

Sam nodded, “Yeah that would be good, can’t see me getting back to sleep.” He pulled the covers back and followed Toby into the kitchen. “Hey, shall we work some more on that section you couldn’t write yesterday?”

“I could write it, I just didn’t want to rush it.” Toby pulled a jar down from the cupboard and pointed at Sam with his free hand. “I don’t remember a certain deputy being much help.”

“It was a riveting episode of the Rockford Files. I can’t help Jim Rockford solve crimes and supply you with dazzling oratory.”

Toby shook his head and mumbled something that Sam couldn’t quite catch. He fished the tea-bags out of the cups and walked through to the living room. He knew neither of them were going to get back to sleep anytime soon and toyed with the idea of broaching the subject of Josh. He waited until Sam had drunk some of the tea and seemed totally over the effects of the dream. Sam fiddled with the unfamiliar TV remote and Toby managed to hold his tongue while he got to grips with it and finally managed to start flicking through the channels. An old western played in the background as Toby thought of his opening line. The good guys were outnumbered and holed up in the saloon before Toby thought of what he wanted to say.

“Sam, you know what happened with Gillmore wasn’t what Josh planned or wanted?”

Sam sighed and turned away from the television. “I know,” he said quietly. “I also know that a couple of years ago the Josh I knew wouldn’t even have considered threatening someone in that way. Threatening, sure, but not in that way.”

Toby scratched at his eyebrow and leant forward. “So it’s not what he did so much as the fact that him doing it confirmed how far you two have grown apart?” Toby couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s eyebrows rising at the insight Toby was showing.

“Wow, move over, Jerry Springer.” 

“Just answer the question.” Toby shook his head at Sam’s comment but he had surprised himself at how easily he was talking to Sam about his relationship with Josh. Then again, he decided, this is what big brothers do.

“I suppose I’m mad at him. We’ve grown apart, yes, but that’s not it. It’s the way people keep changing right in front of my eyes. People I thought I knew, could trust, people I’d been nothing but honest with. I suppose it’s that really. My dad, the President, Kevin and now the person I always thought would be a constant.” Sam closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across them. Pinching the bridge of his nose he opened them again and looked up at Toby. “What happened to Gillmore’s wife was despicable and at first I was so shocked at the thought that Josh had engineered it that I felt sick to my stomach just watching the news coverage. When I realised that Josh hadn’t planned for it to play out that way I felt guilty at thinking he had but also…I don’t know, I suppose the fact that Josh has kept me so distant as a colleague and a friend recently…there was just a part of me that still believed he was capable of pulling a stunt like that.”

“What were you worried about saying when you were having a nightmare?”

The change of subject caught Sam off guard. Toby noticed the change in him and knew he was right to pursue the issue. There was something Sam wasn’t telling. 

“It wasn’t anything. I was just worried in case I’d said something stupid. I woke up, found you standing over me and just worried that I’d said something stupid.” Sam looked at Toby and knew his explanation had not fooled the man. He stood up quickly, and Toby winced at the obvious pain the movement had caused. Sam headed to his room and shut the door behind him.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Josh had sat quietly through the staff meeting and was sitting equally as quietly through a meeting with CJ and Toby. The State of the Union had been a great success and early polls suggested huge leaps for the administration. Sam had been attacked a few days after and since leaving the hospital had shown little interest in it. Toby and CJ discussed which sections the President should address at a dinner the following night as Josh looked on.

“Are you going to add something to this discussion or sit there looking at your shoes for the next hour?” Toby’s tone was harsher than he intended but he was tired of Josh moping around and needed him to get his head back in the game. “It’s over, Josh. Gillmore and his wife are history. We addressed it and we moved on. It’s time you did the same.”

“I have!” Josh said indignantly. 

“Leo’s over it too,” CJ added, knowing how deeply being pulled out of meetings and negotiations had affected him.

Josh nodded and looked up at her. “I know.”

Toby sighed and flung his notebook onto the desk. “Just go and see him. He’s at my place dying of boredom and driving me next to insane. Go and see him and let’s just get back to being...us.”

“Or, you know, the next best thing,” CJ said sadly, fully aware that things would never go back to how they were during their first couple of years in the White House.

Again Josh nodded and sat up straighter on the sofa. “I will. I’ll fix this.”

Toby nodded once. It was good enough for him. He still had the lingering worry over what Sam was keeping from him but at least moves were going to be made to end the rift that lay between the two men and which hovered over the rest of the staff too.

 

Josh lingered after CJ had left Toby’s office and remained on the sofa even after Toby had made a phone call and fetched himself a coffee. “I would have brought you one too but then that might have helped realise my very real fear that you may actually be planning on sitting here for the rest of the day.”

Josh stretched and yawned. “Nah, I’m just, well, I’m thinking is what I’m doing.”

“What are you thinking about?” Toby asked as he spun his hand around. “Can we speed this up here, I’m a little pushed.

“Oh, okay, well I’m thinking about when the best time to go and talk to Sam would be.”

“Eight. I’m working late then getting pizza. I’ll order for you, anything else?”

“No,” Josh answered as he stood up. “No, that just about covers it.”

 

Toby arrived home at six-thirty, earlier than he expected and glad for it. He went into Sam’s room and found him asleep on the bed, his glasses on the floor and a book open on his chest. Toby decided to let him sleep a while longer before telling him that Josh would be coming round. He wondered if telling Sam was a bad idea and maybe he should just let Josh arrive and let things take their course. Sam would know something was up with the extra pizza though so Toby decided he would order it as late as possible and then tell him. 

He showered and changed and cleared up after Sam. It didn’t take long; Sam was a very thoughtful house guest and if it wasn’t for the books and cup on the table Toby wouldn’t have known he was there. In fact, Toby decided, his house was actually tidier now than before Sam had started to stay with him.

He walked quietly into Sam’s room and pulled the curtains. It’d got dark around five and so he guessed Sam must have fallen asleep before then. He approached the bed just as quietly. Sam didn’t react well to being woken suddenly at the moment and it had taken a punch on the nose for Toby to discover that. He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and shook it gently and then called his name. A few more shakes, a couple more calls and Sam roused. 

“What time is it?”

“Seven. I’m going to order some pizza. What do you want?”

“Anything, you know what I like,” Sam told him as he removed the book from his chest and hunted for the bookmark. “I think I’ll grab a shower, wake myself up.”

Toby’s plans went out of the window as he looked down on a sleep muddled Sam. He couldn’t keep Josh’s visit from him even if he wanted to. “Josh is coming round at eight. I thought it might be good if you two…talk, or something.”

Sam wakened quickly on hearing that. “Toby! I don’t want to- I’m in no mood to- I’m not ready to see Josh yet. I really wish you’d get over this bridge-building shit and just let us sort it out on our own!” He grabbed his towel and wash bag and headed for the door where he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean the bridge thing. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Just don’t blame me if it doesn’t go well.”

“Fair enough,” Toby replied and it was. Sam was willing to try to come to some sort of reconciliation with Josh and that was all he asked.

Sam got out of the shower and put a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers on. “What time is it?” he called out and Toby came to his door and knocked before entering the room.

“A quarter past, you going back to bed?” 

Sam nodded and pulled the covers back. “I don’t feel so good. I thought I’d just lie down for a while. Will you wake me just before eight?”

“Okay.” Toby studied Sam and when he switched the bedside lamp off Toby switched the main light on. “You need anything? Have you taken your meds?”

“I’m fine, really. My chest feels a bit tight that’s all. I must have been overdoing it.”

Toby switched off the light but remained staring at Sam who was now lit only by a streak of lamplight which spilled in from the window. He pulled the door to and went back to some work he had laid out in the living room, pausing only to place some beers in the fridge. It was twenty minutes later that he heard the sound of a light being switched on followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. He resisted the impulse to call out and ask if Sam was okay. The door opened and closed again and the light that crept in under the doorway from Sam’s room was extinguished and so he returned to his work. Another fifteen minutes passed and then the sound of the bathroom door opening repeated. This time Toby waited until Sam emerged from the bathroom and followed him to his room. “You okay?”

Sam was sitting upright on his bed his arms on either side of him. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you lie down?”

“It’s worse when I do that.” Sam pulled the covers over him and tried to get comfortable. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass.”

 

Toby worked for a while longer. He had told Sam he’d give him a call before eight and glanced at his watch to check the time. He decided to give him another five minutes and he’d just turned back to his work when Sam’s bedroom door opened and Toby saw him in the corridor heading for the kitchen. 

When Toby got there he expected to find Sam getting a drink but he was greeted with a different sight altogether. Sam was pacing around the kitchen table, one hand on his chest and the other on his hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. My chest feels tight and when I lay down it’s like there’s this weight on it.”

Toby listened to Sam’s breathing and noticed the effort Sam seemed to be putting into it. “Sit down.” He pulled a chair out. “Just give yourself a few minutes and try to relax. It’s probably an anxiety thing. Did you have a bad dream?”

“I haven’t been to sleep.”

“Okay, well that was just one theory.” Toby poured a glass of water and handed it to him. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a bit I think.”

Toby stood beside him and told him to sip the water. He noticed that Sam was sweating slightly and wondered if he had a fever. Sam ducked away from the hand that was placed on his forehead. “I’m okay, it must just be something that happens when you have the shit kicked out of you because your-”

Toby frowned and sat down opposite Sam. “I’d really like you to finish that sentence.”

Sam shook his head. “Forget it, I’m just pissed that I still feel like an old man and walking to the kitchen has got me breathless.”

Toby accepted his answer for now, although he would return to it later. He waited in silence for Sam to recover from whatever it was that was ailing him. After a few minutes it became clear that Sam’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier and his pallor was turning whiter. Suddenly, Sam stood up and walked away from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“Thought…I might try...lie down again.” Sam got as far as the doorway before stopping and turning back to Toby. “I think there’s something wrong. I think you better take me to the ER. Is that okay…I know Josh is supposed to be-”

“Shut up!” Toby answered. “Go sit down. I’ll phone the doctor.” Sam walked slowly into the living room and sat down carefully on the sofa. Apart from the discomfort in his chest, his body was still recovering from its many injuries and most movements were still a cause of various aches and pains. He listened as Toby gave a succinct description of the events leading to the phone call but couldn’t tell from his replies what the doctor was telling him. The edges of the room were beginning to blur like it was framed in cotton wool. The image remained no matter how many times Sam blinked. He felt the sofa dip as Toby came and sat beside him. “Can I get you anything? What do you need?”

Sam shook his head, “Nothing…just sit here.”

Toby rubbed at his forehead and studied Sam. He was definitely looking worse than before and his breathing seemed more laboured. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on Sam’s face and Toby stood and went into the bathroom. Sam’s eyes were closed when he returned and they remained closed as Toby gently wiped the cool cloth over his face. “We’ll head off in a minute, when you feel a bit better.” He glanced at his watch and tried to sort out when Sam’s symptoms had started and then worsened. He leant back against the sofa and looked at Sam again. “You feel ready yet?” Sam shook his head. “Open your eyes, Sam, and speak to me.”

Sam’s head turned towards Toby and he immediately wished he hadn’t asked Sam to open his eyes. There was panic there and the same fear Toby had seen in them in the alleyway all those nights ago. “Hey, it’s okay. I know it’s hard but just try to relax.”

“Don’t want…want go back there,” Sam said quietly his gaze fixed on Toby.

“I know, but this isn’t like last time. I know this is bringing it all back for you, it certainly is for me, but this is just a setback. You’ll be in and out in a couple of days, if that. You’ll probably be back here tonight. The sooner we go…” Toby’s words dwindled away as he realised the uselessness of jollying Sam along. He looked at Sam’s hands which were clenched into fists, sweat had broken out on his face again, and he listened to the now wheezing breaths. “I’m going to phone for an ambulance.”

A subdued, “Okay,” was all Sam could manage. He knew as well as Toby that he was deteriorating and wouldn’t even be able to stand up let alone make it to Toby’s car. 

Again the sofa dipped and Toby sat back down, the phone still in his hand. He had a vague notion there was someone else he should call, someone he had made plans with but all he could think about was Sam and trying not to picture how much more his condition could worsen before the paramedics arrived. Sam’s head was turned away from him now and Toby called his name twice before Sam turned to face him. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” The comforting words didn’t seem to reach Sam so Toby reached out and placed his hand on top of Sam’s still clenched fist. Gradually the hand beneath his uncurled and lay loosely on the sofa. It was only when the wheezing grew more intense and shivers stared to wrack his body that Sam turned his hand around and clenched the one that still covered it. 

 

Toby sat up and moved swiftly to the door when he heard the paramedics arriving. The two men greeted Toby and made their way straight to the sofa. The elder of the two kneeled in front of Sam and started to ask him questions. 

“What’s going on?” Josh’s sudden appearance at the door startled Toby. On seeing him he couldn’t avoid the small sigh of laughter that escaped as he thought that an hour ago his biggest worry had been trying to get Sam and Josh to resolve their differences.

No one answered Josh and so he walked into the room, stood beside Toby and asked the question again. Toby shrugged helplessly.

“Sam, your breathing’s laboured so we’re going to put this mask on your face and you’re going to feel a pinch in your arm when we put the IV in. Are you in any pain?” Sam shook his head but then grabbed at the man’s arm and nodded, he pointed to his ribs. Finding it increasingly difficult to do anything but draw a breath, Sam looked to Toby to answer for him.

“He’s only just been discharged from hospital. He was beaten up last week and his lung collapsed and some of his ribs were broken.”

“Okay, Sam, you should start to feel a little better soon. I think your lung has collapsed again which is something your doctor probably told you could happen.” The paramedic patted Sam’s arm and looked back up at Toby. “Did he say if it was worse when he lies down?”

“He said it felt like a weight on his chest.” Toby tried to catch Sam’s eyes but they were closed now and Sam was unaware of what was going on around him. The paramedics got the gurney into a position so Sam could sit up. Josh took a step closer to the sofa and called Sam’s name but Sam didn’t respond and only opened his eyes when he felt himself being helped to his feet and onto the gurney. Toby asked which hospital they were taking him to and as soon as they’d left he hurried around the house collecting his jacket and phone and locking up. “You coming?” he asked Josh as he switched off the living room light. Josh replied by picking his own coat from where he had flung it on the table and following him out of the house.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It was all too familiar. The sights and sounds were ones that Toby had wished he wouldn’t have to experience again. There was a tube running from Sam’s chest again, machines hooked up to him again and a look on his face that Toby certainly had never wanted to see again.

“You got a better room this time,” Toby noted of the newly painted room which had bright curtains and a brand new television mounted on the wall. “Josh is outside, he’s just gone to make some calls.” A nurse entered and examined the progress of the chest tube. “I saw Dr Manning while I was waiting. He was going off duty but said he’d pop in to see you before he left.” Toby sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He knew Sam must feel bad and the mask over his face didn’t do much to facilitate conversation but he wished Sam would at least acknowledge that he was there. Toby tried again, this time asking a question. “Do you want me to phone your parents?” Toby knew that Sam wouldn’t and so was sure that the question would at least make Sam turn to him. It took a few moments but Sam’s head eventually turned and his scowl made it very clear that he knew Toby would know that was the last thing he wanted. Toby shrugged, “Well it got you to look at me at least.” Sam rolled his eyes and then closed them. 

 

“My batteries are dead!” Josh exclaimed, indignant that batteries would dare die on him.

Sam’s eyes opened when he heard his voice and Toby felt Sam’s tense. “Go ‘way, Josh.” 

Both men looked at Sam in surprise and the fleeting notion that he had been joking was dispelled by the expression on his face. 

“Mean it…don’t want…you here.” 

Josh took a step towards the bed and held his hands out as if to pacify Sam. “Come on, Sam, I know I wasn’t around much last time but I wanted to make it up to-”

“Get out!” Sam said despite the pain it caused him. Again Josh started to speak but Toby stood and told him to do what Sam wanted.

“Toby, you were the one who wanted me to try to-”

Again Josh was interrupted as Toby walked towards him whispering something meant for only his ears. He let himself be pushed towards the door and out of the room. “He’s just pissed he’s back in here, that’s all. He wouldn’t speak to me until I threatened to call his parents.”

Josh nodded at Toby’s attempt to make him feel better but he knew, like Toby, that there was something else going on, something that went beyond Sam’s falling out with Josh. “I’m not going. I’ll sit here until he changes his mind.” Josh sat down outside the room, folded his arms and turned away from Toby.

 

Toby walked back into Sam’s room slowly. He looked at Sam who was looking guiltily back at him. “What was that all about?”

Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed before wincing at the pain the deep breath caused him. He regretted throwing Josh out but then again why shouldn’t he act like that? It was Josh’s fault. If it wasn’t for Josh he wouldn’t have been beaten half to death. He looked back at Toby. The last thing he needed was for him to start getting suspicious again and quizzing him about what had really happened. “You’re right…sorry…just don’t have the energy …deal…right now.”

Toby nodded and sat back down beside the bed. “He’s waiting outside, said he wouldn’t go until you changed your mind.”

The news seemed to genuinely surprise Sam but his silence made Toby think Josh’s wait would be in vain. “Move on.”

“Not that…easy,” Sam replied, instantly regretting the words.

“Why? It’s like you’re blaming Josh for what happened to you. I know that if Josh hadn’t said those things to you at the restaurant then you wouldn’t have stormed out and you wouldn’t have even been anywhere near that damn alley, but that’s not Josh’s fault.”

Relief flooded through Sam. Here was his out. He could blame it all on that, the fact that his argument with Josh had meant he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could blame it on that and then never have to reveal the truth that he was attacked solely because of Josh’s actions. He smiled sheepishly. “You’re right…just mad in here again…tell Josh come back in…make him sweat it out…few minutes first though.”

Toby smiled at Sam’s plan and relaxed back into his chair. He’d give Josh five minutes and then go get him. Maybe tonight was to be the night for reconciliation after all.

 

Ron was smiling. It made Charlie smile too in the sure knowledge that whatever Ron had come to tell the President would make him start smiling and stop picking on Charlie about his filing techniques, diary keeping skills and general office layout. “You’re smiling,” Charlie said to Ron as got up from his desk.

“I am.” Ron stood and waited for Charlie to tell him he could go in. He smiled again as Charlie came out of the Oval Office and he walked into it.

“Charlie tells me that you’re smiling,” Bartlet said as he nodded to the sofa and walked over to join Ron.

“I am, sir. The DC police picked up one of the men who attacked Sam.”

On hearing the news Bartlet clapped his hands and stood up. “You hear that, Leo?” he said as he walked towards Leo’s office. “Ron says they’ve caught one of the thugs that attacked Sam.” Bartlet stuck his head back through the doorway of his office. “Leo’s smiling too now, Ron, isn’t it great when the legal system comes up trumps like this and makes everyone smile!” He returned to the sofa followed by Leo and both men sat down and waited for Ron to tell them more.

“The guy was careless; mouthing off in some diner about his part in the attack but unfortunately for him doing it in a booth next to three off-duty cops.”

“That smile just keeps getting wider,” Bartlet said.

“He’s been questioned and charged but he’s saying he has no idea where the other attacker is. As we thought, he left before the attack was over and argued with the other guy that they’d done what they were meant to do, that’s why he left because it was all getting, in his words, ‘a bit too heavy’.”

Leo’s and Bartlet’s smiles vanished instantly and Leo sat forward a frown on his face. “Wait a minute, what they were meant to do? So these guys were paid to beat Sam up?”

“That’s what he’s saying, well he’s saying his accomplice was paid and that he didn’t know who by or what for but Sam was the intended target. They were going to wait for him to leave the restaurant and follow him home. Sam coming out like that just made their job a whole lot easier.”

“Okay,” Bartlet folded his arms, “Okay, so this is a whole new thing. Can you get involved now?”

“I always was involved to a certain degree but the DC police were handling the case. Now that we know that a senior staffer has been the victim of a targeted attack my men can get involved with the investigation. I’d also like to heighten security here for the rest of the staff.”

Bartlet nodded, “Whatever you need. They’ve had a detail assigned to them already haven’t they?”

“Yes, but only a discreet one. I’d like to assign twenty-four hour agents to senior staff and then as the investigation proceeds, anyone else we think may be a target.”

“Anything you want, Ron, and if they start getting funny about it then send them to me.”

Ron nodded, thanked the President and left the room. The two friends sat side by side. “I knew, Leo, as soon as I heard about this attack I knew there was more to it.”

“Toby thinks Sam’s hiding something.” 

Bartlet turned to his friend and shook his head. “So now we have to worry about not only why they attacked him but what happened when the one attacker stayed with Sam and why isn’t he telling us what happened.”

Leo let out a huff of annoyed laughter at the situation. “You know, there are many days when I wish I had someone else’s job but right now I wouldn’t have Ron’s job for anything.”

“He’ll find out what happened. If he doesn’t then Toby will shake it out of Sam whether we like the answer or not.” 

Margaret poked her head around the door to see where Leo had got to but on seeing the two men sitting quietly side by side, comfortable in their companionship, she shut the connecting door between the offices and returned to her desk.

 

Josh was chatting to one of the nurses when Toby came out of Sam’s room thirty minutes after he had been banished him from it. Josh caught sight of Toby and quickly excused himself. “Her name’s Betty and she lives in a house with six other nurses!” Josh told Toby.

“Listen, before you go in there, Sam says that he was blaming the argument on him leaving the restaurant and being in the alley when he was.”

“You don’t believe him?” Josh asked all notions of getting to know Betty forgotten.

Toby rubbed at tired eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe. Just don’t go in there like a…”

“Like a what?” Josh asked defensively.

“Like a Josh,” Toby said simply. 

“Oh, okay.” Josh smiled at Toby and despite the circumstances Toby couldn’t help smiling back. They’d get through this. They’d been through too much to let it all fall apart now.

“I got a message to phone Leo so I’ll see you in there.” Toby watched Josh’s swagger desert him as he walked the few steps to Sam’s door.

He walked into the room taking in the tubes attached to Sam and then did his best to ignore them. “There’s a nurse out there called Betty who lives with six nurses,” he announced as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

Sam pointed to the tube in his chest. “What am I…supposed to do…about that?”

Josh nodded vigorously, “Good point.” He moved his chair closer to the bed and waited for Sam to look at him. “You know, when I was shot I blamed Leo for a while.” Sam’s eyes widened at the revelation. “He phoned me, just before we walked out and I hung back to talk to him. I couldn’t help thinking if I hadn’t answered that call I would have been with you and CJ.”

“We got…shot…at too,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’d have pushed me down.”

Sam frowned, “Not sure…Sam powers let me…let me push two people down.”

“You’d have tried,” Josh said and the sincerity in his voice made Sam wince inwardly. He may not believe in Josh anymore but Josh still believed in him. “But at the moment, you know, maybe it’d be CJ first.”

Sam smiled at the comment. “I don’t blame you…not for being…where I was.” That much was true at least Sam thought.

Josh sagged visibly with relief and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much when you were in here the first time.”

“That’s okay.” Sam’s reply was quick, too quick. And Josh knew they still had a long way to go. He decided that instead of trying to build any more bridges he’d just simply be there. He told Sam more about Betty. He adjusted the tube that appeared to be a bit tangled much to Sam’s alarm that Josh was touching anything connected to his recovery. He pulled the blankets further up because he thought Sam looked cold then pulled them back down when Sam started to sweat again. He felt for the first time in a long time that he and Sam were actually getting somewhere. But then Toby came back into the room.

“Josh, can I speak to you outside? It’s just a work thing, Sam, nothing to worry about.” Toby held the door for Josh and then closed it behind him. “Leo said they caught one of Sam’s attackers.” He held up his hand to halt Josh’s celebration. “The witness who said he saw one of them leave early was right. This guy is saying that he left the other man when he thought the attack had gone far enough.” Again Josh’s response was cut short. “There’s more, the attack on Sam was targeted but he doesn’t know, or isn’t saying, who paid them or why.” Toby glanced into Sam’s room and stared at him while he let Josh digest what he had told him.

“Sam knows,” Josh announced and Toby agreed with him. “That’s why he’s saying he doesn’t remember and won’t talk to us. It’s why he’s saying he doesn’t remember one of the attackers leaving as well.”

“Yeah, well, he’s going to have go through all those questions again now and this time there’s more than just his version of events to go on.”

Josh leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “God, Toby, what happened that he’s not telling us?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to even think about it but that other guy was on his own with Sam and whatever happened, Sam doesn’t want to talk about it.” Josh slowly pushed himself away from the wall and asked Toby if he was coming back in with him. 

“I’m going to walk around a little,” Toby said and he quickly made for the elevator leaving Josh alone to return to Sam’s room and lie about what he and Toby had been discussing.

 

Toby walked around the front of the hospital and then without realising followed the path to the back of it. He walked past dumpsters and maintenance rooms before stopping at the back of the hospital kitchen. He sat down on some steps and opened the bottle of water that he had forgotten he was carrying. His thoughts had been running wild and as much as he tried to come up with logical explanations for what had happened to Sam he could not. At one stage he managed to convince himself that nothing had happened, the other man had simply run off. He thought about Leo telling him how the man who had been caught had said it had got too heavy though and realised that wasn’t true. Now that he’d stopped walking his thoughts were becoming more ordered and for the first time Toby allowed a fear that had been lingering to surface. What if the man had done more than attack Sam? What if too heavy meant something worse than a physical attack? Toby shuddered at the thought but couldn’t help but think how Sam’s refusal to talk about what had happened and feigned forgetfulness made it seem even more likely. He resolved to let Sam get over this latest setback and then force him to talk or at least set his mind at rest about what had not happened.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Toby visited Sam every day for the few days he was back in hospital and apart from telling Sam that a man had been arrested he didn’t mention anything else about the attack. 

Sam’s lung had responded to the treatment and Sam was clearly keen to get out of the hospital. Doctor Manning told Sam how important it was to rest over the next few days and he repeated his instructions to Toby. “He needs to take it easy. Having a lung collapse twice is not uncommon but we really don’t want to see it happen again. He needs to rest, try not to cough, sing, talk loudly, or laugh for several days. If there’s any chest soreness, apply ice, a heating pad or warm cloths for around ten to twenty minutes and he’s got the medication I’ve prescribed.”

“Not singing or talking loudly, is that a permanent thing?”

Dr Manning shook his head and then smiled when Toby said it was a shame. “Does Sam often break into song then?” Manning asked.

Toby’s smile disappeared. “He used to.” Toby held out his hand to the doctor and asked how long the drugs would take to arrive.

“They should be coming up within the next half hour. Sam’s already packed and dressed. He certainly doesn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.” Manning nodded at Toby, glanced at his watch and then hurried off down the corridor.

 

“You look better,” Toby announced as he walked into Sam’s room. “More colour, less wheezing, this is a look I like.”

Sam smiled and hoisted his bag from the bed onto his lap. His wheelchair was facing the door and his hand tapping absently on one of the wheels. 

“Dr Manning said you’re not allowed to sing or talk loudly again.”

Sam turned shocked eyes towards Toby. “Ever?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“Well, I think the White House Male Voice Choir is going to have something to say about that!”

There was a pause and then Toby turned to Sam, “See, now that you’re not looking grey and wheezing I don’t have to humour you anymore. You can say things like that and I can just ignore you again.”

Sam went back to drumming his fingers against the wheel, a more impatient rhythm this time. 

Toby didn’t know if it was just that Sam was pleased to be getting out of the hospital or not but while they waited for his drugs he had talked more than he had since the attack. It was all the talking Sam was going to do for the day though. As soon as he got into the car he stopped talking and on arriving at Toby’s he collapsed on the bed and slept until evening. 

 

He woke to a darkened room and for a moment thought he was still in the hospital until the sound of a microwave and an angry voice drifted into his room.

“I would like, and I don’t think we’re in moon on a stick category here, I would like a list of all the senators who attended the last State Dinner and the names of those who came from the Canadian and French Embassies!” Sam didn’t have to see Toby to know that he would be rubbing his forehead furiously. “Thank you, Ginger, now tell Bonnie to get back on the line I need her to send something over to the Hill for me.”

Sam closed his eyes and listened to Toby’s instructions. He almost smiled at how mad Toby got over things sometimes but the smile vanished when he remembered who was coming to see him tonight and how Toby would be there and how the possibility of Toby getting mad again was extremely high. Sam felt his stomach lurch at the thought of Ron asking him questions about that night, telling him about the man who’d been arrested and asking Sam to fill in the blanks. It hadn’t been too bad with the DC police. They didn’t know Sam, they didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not but Ron would and what was worse, Toby already did.

He swung his legs over the bed and spent a few moments adjusting to the new position, his ribs and arm already protesting. By the time he had stood up and got into the shower, Toby had finished on the phone and called to Sam that there was soup if he wanted it. Toby had been very careful not to crowd Sam unless he really felt that he needed to eat or rest. In return Sam had fitted in with Toby’s routine as much as possible. The two men made ideal housemates in many ways and for a fleeting moment Toby considered the possibility of missing Sam once he was ready to go back to his place. The thought was brought to an abrupt halt by the microwave pinging and toaster springing bread upwards simultaneously. He poured the soup out, laid the toast on a plate and waited for Sam’s arrival. 

Sam picked up a slice as he sat down and took a big bite. “Smells good, what is it?”

“Chicken.” Toby reached over and grabbed a piece of toast. “And something,” he added as an afterthought.

Sam’s spoon halted on the way to his mouth but he thought better of the comment he was about to make and thanked Toby for preparing it instead. They ate in silence. Sam’s appetite vanished halfway through the meal but he did his best to continue.  
“Leave it if you’ve had enough. Go on in, find something to watch, I’ll make some coffee.” He watched as Sam walked over to the sofa and carefully lowered himself down. “You’ve got another physio session tomorrow.”

“Great,” Sam mumbled and then in a louder voice thanked Toby for reminding him. He surfed through the channels and stopped on an episode of I Love Lucy. He heard the cups being placed down in front of him but didn’t turn away from the set. 

“Ron’s going to be here in about an hour.” Toby pushed Sam’s cup closer to him. “Do you want to say anything before he gets here?”

Sam watched as Lucy and Ethel struggled to escape a shower they had somehow got trapped in. 

“Sam! Do you want to talk to me?” Toby waited for Sam to turn away from the TV.

“What’s the point? You’ll hear it all when Ron comes anyway.” 

“Hear what, you saying that you don’t remember anything again because I’ve heard that a few times already and I didn’t believe it the first time.”

“What do you want me to do, Toby?” Sam raised his voice, “I don’t remember, alright! I remember the blood in my mouth, the pain as my ribs cracked, I remember thinking I was going to die, I remember looking at your face and knowing you were thinking it too but I don’t remember anything else!” Sam collapsed back against the sofa, in too much pain and too short of breath to even bother trying to hide it from Toby. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and waited for the pain to ease and his breathing to return to as near as normal as he could manage. Toby watched, waited and stayed silent. Only when some colour had returned to Sam’s face did he speak and his words caused what little colour that had returned to dissipate.

“What did the other guy do to you? The one who stayed after the other one had run?”

Sam looked like the breath he had managed to catch had left him all at once. He licked his lips and glanced away from Toby. “I told you, I don’t remember one of them leaving.”

“But he did, Sam. The guy they caught said he ran when the beating was getting out of control. He said he couldn’t handle it. He said he left you alone with his ‘pal’.” Toby stared at Sam, willing him to turn back so he could judge his reaction better.

“I don’t remember,” Sam repeated but there was no conviction to his words. His hands were shaking.

“Sam, I… Listen, there’s something that’s been worrying me. I wanted to ask you in the hospital but…” Toby’s discomfort made Sam turn to look at him. He had dreaded this question but knew it was inevitable. Toby had suspected something was wrong from the start and despite Sam doing his best he hadn’t been able to hide it from him.

“Sam, did he rape you?”

At first the look of horror that crossed Sam’s face convinced Toby that he was right and he cursed himself for not facing this sooner, for letting Sam deal with it on his own.

“No! God, no! Is that what you’ve been thinking? Is that what- Is that what everyone thinks?” Sam felt his stomach turn and swallowed quickly against the bile that rose in his throat. “That’s not what happened!”

The words left his mouth and immediately he knew what he had said. That’s not what happened, but something did happen.

Toby stood and walked over to the sofa. Instead of sitting next to Sam he squatted down in front of him. “Then tell me what did happen.”

Sam’s mouth opened. A look of fear flashed across his face then his mouth closed. “Nothing happened. I don’t remember. Nothing happened.”

Nothing happened or you don’t remember if anything happened? You better get your story straight before Ron arrives.” He stood up slowly, his bones creaking from the uncomfortable position. “I’m going to have a shower.” He walked out of the room and left Sam alone.

 

 

Sam went into the kitchen and quickly poured a glass of water. This wasn’t what he wanted, people speculating and worrying that things like that had happened to him. He just wanted it all to go away. He wished the man had never been caught. He wished he could still pretend it was a random attack. He knew that sooner or later the truth would come out but he clung to the hope that maybe it wouldn’t; they would never find the other man and no one would ever know. No one would know that he had been viciously attacked because of what Josh had done. He refilled the glass and let the cool water wash away the taste of bile. Placing the glass down he realised his hand was shaking. The truth was worse than the lie. The truth would make him a liar, too weak to face up to what had happened and too afraid of facing the ramifications of it. The truth would crucify Josh and as distant as he was from him at the moment, he didn’t want that. The truth wouldn’t make the attack go away. It would drag on and on and there would be court cases and media frenzy. Sam just wanted it to go away. He wanted to stop waking up shouting or too frightened to breathe. He wanted it gone. 

He took another swig of water then washed the glass and placed it on the drainer. He looked at the clock and realised he had another forty minutes until Ron arrived. He went to the closet and pulled out his coat. Toby couldn’t hear him calling through the bathroom door so he left a note. Toby, gone for a walk to clear my head. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for Ron. He knew Toby would worry but he wouldn’t be gone long and he wasn’t planning on going too far.

 

Sam had been walking for ten minutes when his chest started to hurt. He cursed loudly and then apologised to a woman passing by. He used to be able to run, go to the gym, swim and sail all without any protests from his body. Now a ten minute walk had him puffing like an old man. It was cold too and the air he drew in seemed to blast into his lungs. His arm was throbbing and his ribs ached. He walked into a store and pretended to browse the magazines while attempting to ease his breathing. 

It took him longer than he had hoped and he realised he would be cutting it fine if he didn’t head back now. It had got dark outside while he was in the shop and the wind had picked up. Sam knew he wouldn’t do the return trip in ten minutes so he calculated how much time he had if he was going to get back and get himself into some sort of reasonable shape to meet Ron. He decided if he left now and walked slowly he could do it in fifteen minutes. He bought a paper to explain his lingering and then stepped out into the dark street. 

The cool air was refreshing and Sam set off at a sensible pace. He was making good time and even relaxing a little. He was pleased with himself and was thinking how well he had done when a sudden blackness to his left loomed towards him. It was nothing that he hadn’t walked by a thousand times before but Sam immediately knew he wasn’t going to be able to this time. An alleyway, that’s all it was, a sudden dark gap between lit shops but to Sam it represented much more. There was a man standing beside it, half in light and half cloaked by darkness. Sam wanted to carry on, acknowledge the fear and pass it but the very real belief that the dark hole or the threatening man would suck him in had got hold of him and he couldn’t even take a step towards it. He turned to cross to the other side but his movements were frantic and he crashed straight into someone coming the other way. They swayed for a moment then the stranger grabbed Sam’s arm to steady himself. Sam felt the hand on his arm and pulled away. All his efforts to recover from his previous overexertion were wasted now as his breathing became strained once more. He walked blindly along the street then ducked into the first busy place he came across. It took him a while to work out where he was and a while longer to get his trembling fingers to cooperate so he could use his cell phone.

“Where are you?” Toby asked immediately on answering. He tapped his finger impatiently on the door handle as he listened to Sam ask someone where he was. He was out of the door as Sam told him the name of the cinema he was in and the street.

“I know it. I’ll be three minutes.” Toby put the phone into his pocket and pulled out of the driveway muttering about stubborn deputies.

 

When he walked into the foyer of the cinema his anger deserted him. Sam was sitting by the popcorn machine next to a woman who was pouring a second glass of water for him. He looked dishevelled and for Sam that was an unusual look. Toby watched as Sam held out his hand for the cup and thanked the lady with a heartfelt smile. On seeing Toby his expression turned immediately to one of guilt and he turned and mumbled something to the lady sitting next to him.

“Oh I don’t think he’d drive out here just to kill you,” Toby heard the lady say soothingly to Sam as he walked up to them.

“Hi, Toby, Sally’s been looking after me,” Sam explained as Toby sat down beside him.

Toby nodded at her and held out his hand across Sam. She shook it and then stood. “I better be getting back to it. You look after yourself now. Asthma shouldn’t be taken lightly,” she told Sam as she smiled warmly down at him and hurried off to work.

“Asthma?” Toby asked.

“It was easier than explaining the whole ‘I saw a man standing by an alleyway and it freaked me out then someone grabbed my arm and I thought I was going to get the shit kicked out of me again’ thing.”

Toby nodded, “Well, yeah.” He shifted in his seat and glanced at his watch. “Is that what happened then?”

“More or less. I like to think the alleyway and the man were more menacing than your average alley/strange man combo but yeah, that’s what happened.”

Toby cleared his throat and threw Sam’s empty cup into the trash. “You up to seeing Ron?”

“Only if we can get back in time for me to get myself together.”

“If we leave now we will.”

“Then let’s leave now,” Sam replied. He stood and did not shrug off Toby’s supporting arm as they made their way through the crowd piling out of the movie house and towards the car. They drove back in silence and Sam tried to concentrate on what he was going to say to Ron but the image of the alleyway wouldn’t leave him.

“It’s natural,” Toby said as he took in Sam’s contemplative stare out of the window. “Probably, I mean I don’t know but it would seem pretty natural to me that something like that could…” Toby waved his hand in the air, “bring it all back. Look at Josh and his brass band thing.”

“That was different. Josh had PTSD.”

“And you don’t!” Toby asked incredulously.

“No. PTSD is a recognised disorder that often comes on months after the initial trauma. I’m just scared shitless of alleyways, that’s a totally different thing.”

Toby couldn’t help a small smile at Sam’s earnest comparison. “I would think being scared shitless of alleyways is a recognised disorder as well.”

They were silent for the rest of the drive. Both were relieved to see that Ron hadn’t arrived yet but they walked quickly into the house knowing it was only a matter of moments. Toby set about making some coffee while Sam went to his room shutting the door behind him. 

Toby lifted the coffee packet and read the back while he waited for Sam. He had determined that he wasn’t going to think about Ron’s visit, what Sam might or might not say or how Sam was now. He read about the wonderful contribution he had made to the environment and charitable organisations through buying the coffee and managed to keep his mind off all things related to Ron, Sam and possible motives until he heard the door buzzer.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

“Good evening, Toby. Thanks for this. I know it’ll be easier for Sam not to have to come in.” Ron took a step into the house before turning back to the street. “I parked over there is that okay?”

The idea that Ron couldn’t park wherever he damn well chose briefly amused Toby but seeing the mass of reports Ron had tucked under his arm soon dispelled any humour he found in the situation. “You’ll be okay there,” Toby told him as he shut the door behind him and gestured to the sofa. “Okay, or would you prefer to be at a table?”

“This is fine,” Ron said and sat down placing the files at his feet. He immediately stood on seeing Sam. “Good evening, Sam. This shouldn’t take too long.” He waited for Sam to sit and then immediately opened one of the files. Sam sat forward in his chair. Toby didn’t miss the fact that Sam hadn’t made eye contact with him since entering the room. As much as he didn’t want to miss a word of what was being said, Toby went into the kitchen to get the coffee.

Listening at doors was not something Toby made a habit of but he felt on this occasion it was justified. Sam had seemed so vulnerable earlier and Toby wasn’t sure just how he was going to handle Ron’s questions. He watched the coffee dripping into the pot and silently willed it to hurry up. If he hadn’t have needed to rescue Sam earlier he would have had all this done. He moved closer to the door and listened as Ron began to tell Sam what the man who had been arrested had said.

“Does he have a name?” Sam asked. “It’s just that everyone keeps referring to him but no one seems to know his name.”

Toby shook his head. Sam was interrupting already. This wasn’t good. He needed to sit still, listen and then talk, not interrupt. He pulled the pot away despite the drips of coffee that continued to fall and evaporate loudly as they hit the hot plate. A tray, three cups, sugar and he was ready to go. He toed the door open and placed the tray down on the table. He poured out two cups and placed them in easy reach of Sam and Ron before filling his own.

“His name is Joseph Nelson. He’s thirty-two, single and has served time for assault and robbery.” Ron took a sip of coffee and looked across at Sam. He wasn’t sure if he was glad he knew more about his attacker or not but nodded to show he was grateful for the information and Ron moved on. “We already have your statement from the DC police and I spoke to you briefly in the hospital but what we need to do is fill in some gaps.” Ron picked up a file and browsed through the contents until he found what he was looking for. “This is a statement from a witness who saw Nelson leave the alleyway. Nelson has told us he left before his accomplice-”

“Do you know his name?”

“We think it’s Benson.” 

Toby couldn’t tell if Sam genuinely wanted to know their names, was stalling, or was just trying to control the conversation. He suspected it was all three.

“Nelson told us that he left before Benson and did not meet up with him again. Now I know that you’ve said that you can’t remember much about the final moments of the attack but it would be really helpful if you could just try to think back and see if anything comes to mind.” Ron reached inside the folder and pulled out a picture of Nelson which he placed on the table in front of Sam. “This is Nelson. It was dark and I know it’s unlikely you got a good look at either of them but just take a look and see if the picture helps.” Ron sat back and picked up his cup again. Toby watched as Sam’s eyes shifted to the floor beside the table then slowly up to the picture. He remembered the man and Toby could see it as clearly on his face as if he had said so out loud. Sam folded his arms, but then, suddenly aware of the defensive gesture; he unfolded them and placed them back in his lap.

Ron missed none of this and decided to press on. “Sam, I’m going to read to you what Nelson told us he said to Benson in the alleyway. That may help you to remember more clearly.” Again Ron flicked through the papers in front of him until he came to Nelson’s statement. He skimmed the text and then paused briefly glancing up at Sam before he began. “Nelson told us that when he realised the attack was becoming more intense than he had bargained for he told Benson to ‘leave it’ and that he’d been told to-”

“Rough him up, we were told to rough him up,” Sam interrupted, “he’s had enough, leave it, that’s what he said then he added ‘fuck this’ and ran off.” Sam looked at Toby and saw the shock on his face reflected on Ron’s. He had control, despite Ron’s clever questioning techniques he had the upper hand and so he continued. They wanted to know what happened, then he’d let them know and maybe then they’d leave him alone. “I heard the footsteps as he ran off and couldn’t hear anything else. I couldn’t get up. I tried but I couldn’t. I heard a crash behind me like something being pulled down or broken up and then footsteps from behind coming closer and I thought it was Toby or someone who’d help me but then there was a blow and it was worse than the others and I was so sure that he would kill me. I felt it hit my chest and heard the sound of my ribs breaking and he didn’t stop. He walked around me and came from every side and when he’d done that he kicked me in the stomach and then he pulled me up and pulled my face right up to his and then he…” 

So nearly, he had so nearly told them what he had said. His heart was pounding and he felt his stomach turning as he allowed himself to relive the attack. “And then he stabbed me but I didn’t think he had. I thought he’d pinched me really hard, you know how a bully has that way of finding the spot that will hurt the most, that’s what I thought he’d done.” Sam laughed nervously at admitting this. “But it stung and it didn’t stop and my arm started to feel cold and I knew that he hadn’t pinched me. Then nothing, he went and I lay there and I waited and then Toby was there.”

Ron knew that he wouldn’t have much longer with Sam who looked as if he was ready to pass out or puke up. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing! Why do you keep asking me that?”

“This attack was planned, directed at you and revenge for something. What did he say?”

“I told you, why can’t you just accept what I’m telling you?”

“Because I don’t believe you, Sam. I think you’re hiding something and I think you’re doing it to protect someone. I can’t catch this man if you’re not honest with me.”

Sam could feel the sweat prickling his forehead. Maybe if he told them now that would be an end to it. Josh would get over it. Sam could forgive him. Things could go back to how they were. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He heard Ron repeating his request and more distantly Toby telling him to relax. “I…there’s nothing…I can’t-.” He moved quickly off the sofa and half stumbled to the bathroom. 

Toby leaned back, wiped at his face and tried to block out the sounds of Sam retching. Ron placed the papers back in the file and shook his head. “He was so close to telling us something. He has to let this out, whatever it is. Apart from the investigation, he’s not doing himself any favours by keeping it all in.”

“I’ll talk to him, later. When he’s not puking.”

“I’ll keep you up to date. Tell Sam he did well. I’m grateful.” Toby nodded and held the door open. He watched as Ron walked towards his car and took a few breaths of the cool night air. On shutting the door he saw a brief glimpse of Sam’s back as he entered his bedroom shutting the door behind him.

 

Toby cleared the cups away and then sat down at the kitchen table. Sam had told them more about the attack and that was good but judging from the effect it had on him, he was nowhere near coming to terms with what had happened. Toby thought back to how Sam had rambled then almost stammered at times. Despite this his recount had been pretty fluent apart from when he had spoken for the first time of what had happened when Nelson had fled. He had been about to say what Benson had done and then clammed up. Toby rubbed at his tired eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. Maybe it was just remembering being stabbed that had halted Sam like that. One thing Toby was certain of; Sam didn’t want to be disturbed tonight. He decided that wasn’t an option and poured a tall glass of milk, placed it on a tray added a quickly made sandwich and made his way to Sam’s room.

 

There was no reply to his knock on the door. He could see a line of light creeping out beneath the doorframe and that decided him to knock again. “Are you up?” He tapped again. “Are you awake, Sam?” There was still no reply. Toby looked down at the tray. He had made Sam a sandwich; he never made sandwiches for anyone and Sam was going to eat this one even if he had to wake him up to do it. 

The door creaked slightly as Toby gently opened it. As he had thought, Sam’s bedside lamp was on and Sam was on the bed but he wasn’t asleep. He was lying almost curled into a ball, his legs tucked up and his back to the door but Toby saw his head rise slightly as the door was opened.

“Go away, Toby,” a muffled voice came from the bed.

Toby walked around to the other side of the bed and looked down at Sam who had made no further movement since he had entered the room. His eyes opened slightly and on seeing Toby standing there he rolled over onto his other side. 

Sam could hear the soft footsteps as Toby walked around the bed and stood facing him again. “Go away,” he repeated but there was no anger to his voice just a weariness that made Toby even more determined that Sam would eat something before he left the room. Sam started to turn again and so Toby started another turn around the end of the bed. 

“I can do this as many times as you like. It’ll be good for me. It’s probably not so good for you though, it’s probably hurting like crazy.”

Sam started to roll again but lay on his back instead. “What do you want? I’ve told you what you wanted to hear?”

“I made you a sandwich,” Toby replied and because there was just enough hurt and surprise in his voice that the gesture hadn’t been given its full recognition, Sam opened his eyes. The tray was held out and on Sam’s slow nod was placed on the side of the bed. “Tuna.” 

Sam reached out and folded back one of the slices. He nodded slowly as if to confirm it was indeed Tuna in the sandwiches. “Thanks,” he mumbled and sat up higher. His face was lit by the lamp and Toby pretended not to notice his red rimmed eyes. 

“You going to get crumbs in my spare bed or are you going to come back out here?” Toby hoped Sam would lift the tray and follow him back to the dining room but he made no move to get off the bed. “Come on,” Toby said and he lifted the tray himself and carried it back out to the living room. “If you drink all your milk I’ve got thirty year old bourbon out here.”

 

Sam pulled his arms above his head and winced at the sounds that came from his spine and at the pain in his arm where the stab wound was still healing. He washed his face with cold water and frowned on seeing that it had done little to rid his eyes of the puffiness. He walked into the living room and saw the plate and glass placed on the table in front of the sofa. Toby sat on an easy chair reading the sports section of last weekend’s newspaper. He glanced up when Sam entered but then returned his gaze to the paper. A jazz CD was playing in the background and Sam allowed himself to relax into the sofa as he took a bite of his sandwich. Despite his sickness earlier, Sam was surprised to find how hungry he was and he finished one half quickly followed by the glass of milk before picking up the rest of his snack.

Toby knew Sam would take his plate and glass to the kitchen when he had finished and he used the time to pour a generous measure of bourbon into two glasses and place them on the coffee table. Sam smiled when he saw the glasses and came and rejoined Toby who had moved to sit next to him on the sofa. They shared a silent first sip of the liquid before one of them finally spoke.

“Ron said to tell you did good earlier. I know it was hard.”

Sam shrugged. “It wasn’t so hard. It was almost a relief to say it actually.”

Toby nodded and twisted the glass around which sat cradled in his hands. “It would probably be an even bigger relief to tell me the rest of it.”

Sam’s soft huff of resigned laughter made Toby realise once and for all that his suspicions were correct. Toby leant forward, twisted awkwardly so that he was facing Sam. “Ron’s got agents attached to the senior staffers; there are two sitting outside right now. If you know who-”

“No one’s in any danger.” Sam had been looking at the floor but now he raised his head and frowned at Toby. “Do you think I would withhold something that might stop you, Josh or CJ getting hurt?”

“No I don’t, but I think you’d risk being hurt again if it meant protecting one of us.” Toby saw the impact his words had on Sam. His mouth opened but he didn’t speak. His eyes, still red from earlier, shone with new moisture. 

“I’m not in danger either,” he almost whispered and Toby had to lean closer to hear the words. “No one is. It’s over.”

“What is?” Sam flinched at Toby’s raised voice and he took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. “If you know why they attacked us you need to tell us. You need to tell us because then we can find them and make them pay. It won’t be over until then.”

Sam stood up so quickly that Toby lurched backwards to avoid clashing heads with him. “If I say it’s over then it is. They attacked me, Toby, not you, not Ron, not some guy who happened to be passing, me! And I want it to end now because it’s going on and on and everyone’s asking me questions and trying to analyse what I’m feeling and speculating about what happened and no one is making it end!” Sam’s voice had risen with each word and in the silence that followed the sound of his harsh breathing filled the room. “I just want it to end,” he repeated and he looked at Toby wishing that he could find a way to make that happen right now. But all Toby could do was look at Sam helplessly.

“Sit down,” he ordered softly and Sam obeyed, both men aware of the doctor’s instructions and that Sam’s heaving breathing now was proof that they hadn’t been followed. Once Sam was back on the sofa Toby grabbed a cushion from the armchair. “Does your chest hurt?” Sam shook his head but his arms wrapped tightly around himself made a lie of the gesture. “Sam, are your ribs hurting?” Toby asked, his tone making it clear he could see they were. This time Sam nodded and took the cushion from Toby. “You know what to do,” Toby said as he watched Sam place the cushion against his chest in an attempt to lessen the pain from his ribs until his breathing had calmed. Toby told him he was going to make some calls and Sam briefly wondered if they were about him, if he was phoning Josh or Ron to tell him to come back. He couldn’t think very far past the pain in his chest though and he lost the thought in the bid to count his breathing to a slower rate. 

 

By the time Toby returned, Sam’s eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling at a more natural rate. The cushion was still held in his arms though and it was only when he reached down to take it from Sam that he realised he was asleep. He thought about waking him, talking some more but then he pictured Sam’s face again when he had told him he wanted it to end and decided to leave him be, allowing it to end for at least a little while. He pulled a throw off the back of the sofa and laid it over Sam, once more amazed at the man’s ability to bring out this side to him. He sat back down beside him and reached for the remote. He would watch the news on mute and drink some more of the bourbon and later he would watch Sam go to his room and say nothing about what had happened tonight. That could wait for another day.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dennis Harmon tapped his pencil nervously on the desk. When the phone finally rang he jumped, the pencil flipped out of his hand and rolled along the floor until meeting a chair leg. He grabbed at the receiver. “Mike?”

“Yes, Dennis, it’s me. Just relax will you. I got your message and you’re acting like the police are going to bust your door down any minute.”

Dennis stood and paced around his small office. “Well aren’t you worried? They’ve already got one of them, what if he talks?”

“And says what? I told you already, there’s no way they can trace anything back to us. I asked you to get a couple of heavies organised for me. I didn’t tell you why. You told the guy what to say to Seaborn but you didn’t know why. You paid cash. They didn’t know your name. My name was never mentioned. We were both in Texas when the attack happened. We’re home free.” Mike listened for a reply but heard fingers being nervously tapped against the desk instead. He lowered his voice, “I’ll tell you this much, Den, if you keep skulking around DC like you’re next up on death row someone’s going to do more than bust your door down.”

The fingers suddenly stilled. “Was that meant to be a threat?”

“No, it’s a warning. Chill out or someone somewhere will start wondering what’s up.” Again his words were met with silence. “Look, Dennis, no one wanted this to work out the way it has. They were meant to rough Seaborn up not damn near kill him. One of them certainly wasn’t meant to get overheard shooting his mouth off in some diner. But it’s done now. Seaborn’s okay and they’re not going to find the other guy. If they’d been given anything they’d have got him by now so he obviously hasn’t talked. Just get a grip.” Michael had been getting used to his words being greeted by silence so was surprised this time to hear hysterical laughter over the line.

“Get a grip? We’re sitting ducks here. They’ll offer him a deal and he’ll tell them everything. This is the FEDs we’re dealing with, it won’t take them long to work out some sort of link. You’ve been on every major news channel bad mouthing Lyman. And don’t think I’m labouring under any illusions here; they get you and I’m right up there alongside you. I didn’t do this out of friendship. I did it because I owed you. And you want to know what the real punch line is? We don’t even know for sure Seaborn told Lyman why he was attacked. Do you think a man like Josh Lyman would keep that one quiet?”

“Listen, I’m due in court in ten minutes but when I get done I’ll meet you at Pantello’s. Meantime, just think about what I’ve said and think about maybe taking a break, a few days away might help you sort your head out over this.” Michael rang off leaving Dennis staring at the phone. The secretary outside looked up in surprise at the sound of the phone crashing against the door.

 

“You asked me to get the number of the Congressman who sat on the Fleetland Committee and I did that, then you said you’d changed your mind and you wanted me to get you a copy of the report and I did that and then you said that you needed the 2014 report instead. Then you asked me if I’d compile a list of-”

“As much as I’m enjoying hearing a recount of my morning, Ginger, I’m wondering if there’s a point to this.”

“I’m just trying to show you that so far you’ve asked me to do a number of things which you’ve later changed your mind about so when I asked if you were sure when you told me to send the report to the treasury department I was just giving you a chance to be absolutely-”

“You’re fired. No wait I’ve changed my mind. See, mind-changing can be a good thing too.”

Ginger nodded, took the report from Toby and backed out of the office before he could change his mind again. Toby hung his coat up and skimmed through his messages, placing a couple in a separate pile before sitting down and lifting the phone. “Hey, just checking you’re okay.”

“I’m okay and I’m out of bed in case you were wondering. I’ve taken my meds. I’ve drank the orange juice you, very considerately, left by my bed and I’ve eaten two of your bagels. You’re out of bagels now by the way; you may want to pick up some more on your way home.”

Toby relaxed back in his chair. Sam wasn’t alright, not by a long shot but he was obviously determined to put on a good show of being so and Toby found himself admiring the strength that Sam was showing by getting up and facing the day and trying to make Toby feel good after how things had been left last night.”

“I was thinking, if you wanted to you could maybe come in for a few hours today. I’m writing some comments for the Smithfield Education Committee.” Toby could almost picture Sam’s face as he considered Toby’s offer, head slightly tilted, forehead creased.

“I could. I mean I can’t write much with this cast but I could inspire you I suppose.”

“Inspire me? You’re going to come and sit in my office and inspire me?”

“I was thinking I could, for a few hours, on the sofa, nothing too strenuous.”

A soft smile crossed Toby’s face but he was careful it didn’t reach his voice. “You’ve worked with me for four years and suddenly you want to inspire me?”

“I don’t mean I’ll make you burst into a sonnet writing frenzy but yeah, it’s possible I could come up with a few succinct yet moving comments for the Smithfield Education Committee.”

“We’re writing about withdrawal of their funding,” Toby replied.

“Having no money can be one of the most inspiring things that can happen to a man, I mean, take Charles Wainton for example, there was a man who rose from hum-” Toby replaced the receiver and shook his head. He picked up the two messages he had put aside and frowned. “Ginger!” She appeared in the doorway. “You know I told you to send the report?”

She nodded and immediately started an internal mantra of ‘saying I told you so can get you fired’.

“I might have, I mean I have, I have changed my mind. That is to say circumstances have altered facts and that report no longer needs to be sent to the…” Toby waved his hand in the air, “etc etc.” Immediately realising he knew how to wipe the smug look from Ginger’s face he told her of Sam’s imminent visit and her expression immediately changed to one of excitement as she rushed off to share the news with Bonnie and Donna.

 

It was another four hours before Sam showed up in Toby’s office. The walk from the entrance hall to the Communications Bullpen had seemed never ending. A flow of well meaning people asking how he was, welcoming him back and trying hard not to stare at the cast on his wrist or the almost faded bruises on his face.

As soon as Ginger saw him she wrapped him in a hug and Sam tried not to wince at the pressure on the still tender wound. “Put him down,” a gruff Toby ordered from his doorway and Sam grinned at Ginger.

“You okay?” Toby asked, briefly studying Sam.

“I’m good.” Sam sat down on the sofa and reached for Toby’s copy of the first draft of notes. He smiled at Ginger as she brought him in a cup of tea and a pastry and then he started to read. He had only managed the first two bullet points when CJ arrived. 

“Well, hello, spanky pants.” CJ bent down and kissed Sam’s head. He looked up at her and smiled warmly. Toby thought it was the most genuine smile he had seen from Sam in days.

“Does anyone care that I’m trying to work, and Sam is here to work, and we are working?”

CJ sat down beside Sam and placed the pad on the table demonstrating to Toby that she didn’t care. “Is Toby feeding you?” she asked, ignoring the indignant huff that came from the desk. 

“He brings me scraps from the Mess,” Sam said with a suitably doleful expression.

“He means well,” CJ assured him. Toby looked on as she filled Sam in on what had been happening in his absence. Sam listened attentively, his demeanour only changing when CJ asked if he’d seen Josh. He hadn’t, not since he had been in hospital. Sensing Sam’s discomfort, Toby voiced his annoyance at being disturbed and ordered her to go. Sam picked up the notes and began to read again. Eventually he asked Toby for a pencil and started to make notes in the margin. After a while he flung the pad onto the chair and the pencil on top of it. “This is useless. You won’t be able to read what I’ve written. I can’t read what I’ve written.” He subconsciously covered his cast wrist with his other hand.

Toby leaned over and picked up the pad. “I hate to say it but this is actually only marginally less legible than your usual scribble. You talk, I’ll write.” 

An hour later they were finished. Toby wouldn’t admit it but Sam had helped him out of his block. He looked at Sam who was resting his head back against the sofa, glasses long since discarded and arms folded loosely around his middle. “You had enough?” Toby asked and watched as Sam’s eyes slowly opened.

“I’m good.” 

“You want to head back? I can call it a day now?” 

The idea of going back to Toby’s house wasn’t an appealing one. Sam had done nothing but sit there and watch daytime TV since getting out of the hospital and being back at work, listening to the hustle and bustle of the Bullpen was much better than doing that. “I can hang around, if you have things to do I mean, I can wait a while.”

Toby agreed to do that and decided to head down to the Mess to get them something to eat. He asked Sam to go with him but Sam had clearly met enough well-wishers for one day. While he waited for Toby to return he switched the TV on to CNN. He briefly wondered why Josh hadn’t been by yet but put the thought out of his head. He was just settling back onto the sofa when a familiar voice called his name before its owner entered. “You’re still here!” Leo walked over and stood by the sofa. CJ and Josh had seen Sam a number of the times since the attack. They had seen his bruises fade and bandages be replaced with dressings. Leo hadn’t seen Sam and for a moment he was taken aback by the figure before him. The bruises were fading but they still left a map of violence on Sam’s face. His cast was protruding from the sleeve of his sweater and Sam’s tentative movements as he sat up showed the signs of a body still recovering from a vicious assault. Leo recovered his countenance quickly. “Sit down, sit down,” he said as he moved to perch on Toby’s desk. “It’s good to see you, son. The President has asked about you every day. First thing on Charlie’s list every morning was to come over here and ask Toby how you’re doing.” 

Sam smiled at his words. “That’s nice to know, Leo.”

“So,” Leo asked studying Sam with an intently, “how are you doing?”

Sam knew Leo would have made it his business to find out as much as he could about the attack but wasn’t sure if that included all the speculation about what, if anything, he was withholding. “I’m doing okay. It’s hard, you know, with this,” Sam held his cast wrist up, “and my shoulder still hurts but apart from that I’m okay.”

Leo nodded slowly. Sam shifted uncomfortably, aware of his scrutiny. “So, no more problems with your lungs?”

“No, I think that’s all okay now, well it is, I mean it is okay now just still a bit tender, my ribs I mean.”

Again Leo nodded slowly and then stared right at Sam waiting for him to return the gaze. “You know, if there’s anything you want to tell me, talk about, you can come see me anytime.”

“I know that,” So much for Leo not knowing everything about the attack, he thought.

“Good, well, it’s great to see you. I know Toby will be glad when you’re back permanently. By the way, I sent Josh to a meeting on the Hill in case you wondering where he was.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay.” Leo pushed himself away from the desk. Sam stood and walked to the door with him. “Anything, son. Remember that.”

Sam sighed loudly as he watched Leo walking through the Bullpen wondering if there was anyone in the West Wing who didn’t have a theory about the attack. He didn’t have long to ponder this as Toby returned carrying a tray with pie, pastries and coffee. 

 

Josh pulled at his tie and frowned. He knew the meeting would be a waste of time and had told Leo as much. The lobbyists had tried their hardest but even they knew it was unlikely that more funding would be released for the research. Josh patiently explained the protocol of direct funding of drug trials to them and they had nodded knowingly and suggested the protocol be changed. Josh had replied with statistics which demonstrated why that wasn’t going to happen and so it went on until eventually Josh agreed to fund a trial programme in California based on one hundred participants. It was as good as they were going to get and so they took it. “I could have done this over the phone,” Josh complained to Donna on his cell. “In fact, you could have done this over the phone.”

“Did you get my message?” Donna asked ignoring Josh’s complaints.

“No, I just saw you’d called and phoned right back.”

“You should listen to my messages. What if my message was don’t call me back, get help, am being held by international terrorists’?”

“If you were being held by international terrorists would I really be your first call?” Josh held his hand out and ran for the closing elevator doors. “I think you need to rethink your hostage escape strategy.”

“Sam’s here,” Donna told him before he could ridicule her further. “He came in to help Toby. I don’t know how long he’s planning on staying though.”

Josh smiled at the news. “He’s at work? That’s great. I’m on my way back.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a while. By the way, it did occur to you that Leo sending you to the Hill was more than just trying to waste your time didn’t it?”

Josh turned away from the other occupants of the elevator. “Yeah, I didn’t miss the fact that this is the first time I’ve been allowed to go play in a place which might just house more than the odd Republican.” 

 

The elevator was crowded but everyone apart from Josh and another man got off at the next floor. Josh recognised him and tried to put a name to his face. As soon as he turned to speak to him Josh remembered who he was. Frank Carrigy, Congressman Raffers’ Chief of Staff. Josh had met him a few times and he was making quite a name for himself in DC. 

“I was sorry to hear about Sam Seaborn, hear he’s doing better now though.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Josh replied. The next floor was reached and Josh and Carrigy shifted sideways to make room as the doors opened.

“My nephew was attacked just near where Sam was,” Carrigy continued. “He was really sick for a time, took him a long while to get over it.”

Josh noticed the man who had got on was staring at him so he turned away slightly. “Sorry to hear that. He okay now?”

“Yeah, he’s doing a teaching degree back home.” Carrigy smiled at Josh and hefted his bag back onto his shoulder as the elevator neared the ground floor. “Well be sure to send Sam my best wishes. Tell him Congressman Raffer was asking after him too.”

“I will,” Josh said as the doors opened. He was just about to follow Carrigy through them when the man behind him pushed himself away from the elevator rail which he had been leaning against since getting on. 

“Seaborn’s still speaking to you then?”

The enquiry was not a friendly one. Josh turned around to look at the stranger who had addressed him as behind him the elevator doors closed.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

There was something menacing about being in the confined space with the man. “What did you say?” Josh asked, his curiosity outweighing his desire to get out of the elevator. 

“I asked if Seaborn was talking to you. It was a pretty straight question.” The man put his hands in his pockets and waited for Josh to reply as if there was nothing odd about a total stranger asking you if you were speaking to one of your friends.

A short huff of exasperated laughter escaped Josh. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you and I’m pretty sure you don’t know Sam, so why are you asking?”

“Just curious, that’s all. A man takes a beating that damn near kills him, I’m just curious if he’s able to face the person responsible for that.” He smiled at Josh and shrugged as if to imply his question was an innocent one and no offence meant by it.

“Face him? Why would he want to…they caught the guy and they’ll probably catch the other one? Sam doesn’t need to face them.” 

“He’s facing him every day.” The man folded his arms. “Sam was beaten because of you. It was an act of revenge if you want to make it sound dramatic. Or if you don’t, Sam got the shit kicked out of him because you screwed Gillmore and Gillmore has friends. You screwed their friend; they had the shit kicked out of one of yours.”

Josh felt his stomach lurch as if the elevator was moving once more. The man remained looking at him, a smug smile on his face. Before Josh could formulate any sort of response the man pushed past him, pressed the button to open the doors and was gone. Josh leant forward and held onto the rails before him. He took three deep breaths but they did nothing to quell the nausea. He darted unsteadily out of the elevator and looked frantically for the man. A young woman passed him carrying a stack of papers and he clutched hold of her elbow. “There was a man, a tall man, blond hair, he just came out of the elevator, did you see him, did you see where he went?”

She shook her head, slightly alarmed by Josh’s urgent tone and hold on her elbow. Josh saw the bewildered look on her face and immediately let go. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I really, really need to find him. He said something…something that…he told me something and I have to speak to him.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see him.” The woman made a sympathetic face at the man who had now calmed slightly before hurrying off down the corridor. Josh walked across the hall and into the restroom. He splashed cold water over his face oblivious to the splashes that landed on his shirt and tie. He pulled at the towel dispenser, slamming his fist into it when it wouldn’t release more than one. The front of the dispenser dropped down and a chain of towels zigzagged to the floor. A violent kick dispersed them around the restroom. The towels slowly lifted and scattered as Josh, just as slowly, stumbled back against the wall and slid down it until he was sitting on the floor.

 

Toby unlocked the door and threw his coat over the back of the sofa. Sam removed his coat and hung it and Toby’s on the coat stand. Toby opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. Sam picked up yesterday’s paper, placed it in the recycling box and then took two tall glasses from the cabinet and placed them on the coffee table. Toby brought in the bottles and placed them next to the glasses. Sam picked up two placemats and put the bottles on them. Sam and Toby both froze in mid action and stared at each other. 

“Oh my God, we’re The Odd Couple!” Toby groaned.

Sam straightened up from the table and then looked down at Toby’s bottles and his glasses and placemats. “We really are,” he agreed.

“Quick, mess something up and I’ll go clean something. It’ll reverse the…whatever.”

“It’s too late,” Sam sighed as he sat down heavily on the sofa and reached for one of the bottles. “Our ‘whatever’ is controlled by genetics and years of habit, you can’t fight that sort of conditioning.”

Toby shrugged and sat down in the armchair. He took a long swig of beer and an even longer look at Sam. “You did good today with the notes, the ideas, you came up with some good stuff.”

“They didn’t beat my brains out, Toby.”

“I know but it’s been a while. I just thought you might be a little rusty.”

Sam stretched his legs out in front of him. “Achy, yes, tired, definitely, but rusty, never.”

Toby smiled and placed the bottle back in his mouth to stop the smile widening. After lunch, Sam had been visited by Donna, Charlie and Carole. Toby had suggested they go home when it became clear that Josh wasn’t come back from the Hill. Donna had told them to wait and explained that Josh had said he was on his way back but after thirty minutes they’d decided he must have met up with someone. Toby thought Sam was looking tired anyway and was glad when Sam admitted he’d had enough for one day. 

 

They’d been home for an hour. Sam had fallen asleep with a half finished drink in his hand and Toby had spent the time catching up on household chores. He got as far as throwing out the newspapers when an unfinished crossword had caught his eye and he’d returned to the armchair to complete it. 

A sudden snore that turned into a cough came from the sofa and Toby reached out to remove the now precariously balanced beer from Sam’s hand. Sam was lying cross the sofa and a cushion fell to the floor as he rolled over onto his side. Toby remembered why he hadn’t completed the crossword the first time as he went to fetch a second dictionary in an attempt to find the answer for seven down. The room was so silent that Toby could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. He relished the peace and quiet and found himself drifting off to sleep. 

He wasn’t sure if it was one of the dictionaries falling to the floor or the sound from the sofa that woke him but his eyes sprung open and he sat upright. A second sound from the sofa made him turn to face it: newspaper, pen and dictionary falling from his lap in the process. Sam was curled up, his knees almost touching his stomach and his arms wrapped around them. For a moment, Toby thought that Sam was ill again but the mumblings coming from the younger made him realise that he was caught in a dream and judging from the tone of his voice, an unpleasant one. 

He had heard Sam in the night many times. Sometimes he would shout once and then wake up. Sometimes Toby could hear him mumbling until the words became coherent enough for Toby to make out. It was after these dreams that his bedroom light would be switched on and remain on long after Toby had returned to sleep. Toby had only gone into Sam’s room a couple of times, partly because he did not know what to do to help and partly because he was sure Sam wouldn’t want to be seen like that. The few times he had gone in had been when Sam’s mumblings or cries had seemed to be never-ending and Toby couldn’t sit in bed any longer listening to them. 

He went to Sam now. He knelt down beside the sofa and listened, aware that he was intruding but intrigued by the moment in which Sam, albeit unknowingly, was allowing Toby to see the true impact of what had been done to him. 

“Don’t…please, don’t…just stop…st…stop, please…can’t ta…can’t …”

Toby wished he’d woken Sam immediately and reached out and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder but the touch merely served to heighten Sam’s dream-state belief that he was back in the alley. Toby cursed and spoke loudly to Sam, ordered him to wake up but again his voice had been in the alley too and it sent Sam deeper into his dream. 

“Not…sleep…not sleeping, Toby…said don’t…CJ, don’t fall asleep…”

“Shit!” Toby cursed again. He shook Sam’s shoulder more firmly and placed his other hand on Sam’s head. “Wake up! It’s okay, you can wake up.” Sam moaned and tried to shake Toby’s hand off but he repeated his words even more forcefully and finally Sam gasped and his eyes shot open. His breath came in harsh pants as he scrambled into a sitting position. Toby’s hand remained on Sam and he remained on the floor in front of him waiting for him to become fully aware of where he was. He followed Sam’s eyes as they roamed around the room and told him again that he was okay but Sam’s response made him wonder if that was true. “Fuck!” The sudden curse made Toby jump and he watched as Sam’s arm rose and crashed down on the sofa with such violence that he grabbed it fearing that he would damage his wrist. With one hand now held, Sam crashed the other against the back of the sofa. “Fuck it, fuck it!” 

“Hey, calm down.” Toby held both of Sam’s arms and stared at him trying to make him focus. “Calm down!” he repeated slowly. A frown formed on Sam’s face and he struggled against Toby’s hold. “Are you going to stop beating the hell out of my luxury leather recliner?” he asked when the struggling ended. Sam nodded, still frowning as Toby released his hold. 

It unnerved Toby, the way Sam was staring at him but he held the stare and gave Sam time to recover from the anger which had obviously replaced the deep fear he had felt on waking. Sam’s breathing gradually slowed and Toby relaxed and sat back on the floor. 

“I’m so sick of this,” Sam admitted quietly, “sick of feeling like this.”

“I know you are. It’s probably a good thing though to be dreaming like this, means you’re sorting through it all I suppose.”

Sam closed his eyes and rested his head against the sofa. “I’m not sorting through anything. I’m just scared and bleeding and sometimes you find me and sometimes you don’t.” He didn’t tell Toby about the dreams where he was beaten as Josh looked on sipping from a cup of coffee. He looked up and saw the brief flash of helplessness on Toby’s face. “But, yeah, I suppose it must help in some way.”

Toby reached down and picked up the cushion that had fallen to the floor. “It’ll certainly help if you get rid of some of that anger you’ve got pent up in there.”

Sam couldn’t disagree with that. He had surprised himself at the force of his rage when he woke. Rage aimed at his attackers, his stupid useless wrist, the dark memories of the alley and, although he didn’t want to admit it, at Josh. “When my ribs are healed I’ll start running again.”

Toby nodded encouragingly. “It’s going to get better. I know it doesn’t feel like it at the moment but it will.”

Sam looked up and Toby and smiled then ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know, it just doesn’t feel like it when I’m pinned down because I’ve let a nightmare turn me into a screaming hoohoo.”

“Does your mother actually use proper adjectives to describe people in states of distress?” 

Sam laughed at the question. He rolled his eyes at Toby, “You should hear what she calls my dad these days.” 

“Why don’t you go lie down or something,” Toby suggested. Sam was still shaking and he knew he hadn’t truly recovered from his nightmare.

“I’m okay,” Sam replied but he looked up at Toby and knew his words had been recognised for the lie they were. “I’ll go splash some water on my face,” he said for no more reason than because Toby’s concern was palpable and he wanted him to know it was appreciated. He folded the comforter up and draped it over the back of the sofa while Toby cleared away the glasses and bottles.

 

Sam closed the door behind him and leant against it. The bathroom was cool and he welcomed the fresh air that came in through a half open window above the sink. He ran cold water and leant down over the basin. Cupping the water in his hands he splashed it onto his face and watched in the mirror as droplets ran slowly down it. He repeated the process a number of times before reaching blindly for a towel and finding its warmth from the heated rail equally as welcoming as the cool water had been. He looked once more at his reflection and shook his head. He was fucked up. He could look for psychiatric terms to describe his current state but the simple truth of it was that he was fucked up. He looked at the scar just below his hairline. The doctor had told him it would probably remain but would be slight. To him it screamed its presence, a constant reminder of the violence he had experienced. He shook his head again, this time to dispel the images now running through his head. 

He pulled his hair down over the scar and looked away from his image. Thinking of Toby made Sam smile. He thought of his odd couple comment and his smile widened. CJ had joked about Toby buying new bedding for his stay and he had continued to surprise Sam by showing him a side he suspected even Toby was astonished to discover. He wouldn’t be sharing any of it with CJ though or anyone else. Toby had become a source of strength for him that he knew he would be crippled without and he doubted he would ever be able to repay him for his part in helping him to recover from, and make sense of, the attack.

A sudden banging interrupted Sam’s thoughts he called that he would be out in a minute. The banging continued though and was accompanied by a voice, Josh’s voice. 

Sam’s puzzled expression was matched by Toby’s who walked quickly to the door. “Okay, okay!” He opened it to find Josh staring back at him. His tie was askew and his hair ruffled but it was his expression that struck Toby. Toby stepped back as he walked quickly into the room.

“Is Sam here? I need to talk to him. I need to talk to Sam.”

Toby immediately regretted letting Josh in. “He is but it’s not a good time.”

Josh laughed a short, harsh sound. “Yeah, you got that right.” 

Toby took a step closer to Josh, and held his arm in a pacifying gesture. “Look, sit down and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is we won’t get anywhere with you like this.”

“I just need to talk to Sam. I need to ask him something.”

“Ask me what?” 

On seeing Sam, Josh faltered. He had been roaming the streets of DC frantically trying to make sense of what had been said to him and desperate to know the truth but now, with Sam stood before him, he had no desire to hear what Sam had to say. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked when he got no response. He looked to Toby who merely shrugged and then walked closer to Josh. He could see that Josh was upset, more than upset and he suddenly had no doubt what had caused it. Josh knew. Somehow he had found out the truth and he had come to hear Sam say it. “What do you want to know?” Sam asked again but this time quieter, almost a whisper.

Josh turned to face him. Sam was looking straight at him but Josh couldn’t return the gaze. He ran a hand through his hair and then let it fall to his side. A shaky breath escaped him and then, “Were you beaten in revenge for what I did to Gillmore?”

After all his attempts to hide the truth from everyone, all his lies and feigned forgetfulness, Sam felt relief at finally being asked. “Yes.”

Toby was the first to react to Sam’s answer. He stepped towards the two men, almost between them. “What? What’s…I don’t understand what’s going on here.” 

There was no reply. Josh collapsed back onto the sofa and stared fixedly at the floor. Sam glanced at Toby and opened his mouth but no words came. There was only silence.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“I don’t understand,” Toby repeated. He looked at Josh crumpled on the sofa and Sam standing before him fists curled and head down. “Sam!” His forceful tone made Sam look up at him. 

“You wanted to know, you all wanted to know, well now you do.” 

Toby shook his head. “So what are you telling me? You’re saying those thugs beat you up because of what Josh did?”

Sam didn’t turn around. “Ask, Josh. He seems to know as much as me.”

“Well?” Toby shouted the word at Josh and like Sam the tone made him finally lift his head up.

“I wanted Sam to say that it wasn’t true. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t true but…” Josh stood and started to pace restlessly. “This guy, I don’t know who he was, he stopped me and asked if Sam was talking to me.” Again his hand returned to his hair and brushed nervously through it. “I didn’t know what he…I mean what sort of question is that?”

“It’s the sort of question you don’t answer!” Toby shouted back and the anger in his voice made Sam turn around.

“It’s alright, Toby. I was stupid to try and hide it, stupid to think you wouldn’t find out.”

“Alright, this is far from alright.” Toby pulled out a dining chair and sat heavily on it. He took a deep breath and then looked back at Josh. “So what else did he say, this guy?”

“He just said that Sam was beaten because of me. Gillmore has friends and so do I. I hurt one their friends...” Josh trailed off, the rest of the explanation not needed. 

Toby turned his attention back to Sam. “Sit down.” Sam waved a hand to indicate he was fine. “Sit down, Sam! A few minutes ago you were-” He stopped, not wanting Josh to know what had happened before he had arrived. “Please, just sit down.”

Whether to appease Toby or because he realised he needed to, Sam pulled a chair from the opposite end of the table and sat. He folded his hands in his lap because they were shaking and he looked down at them. He couldn’t look at Josh or Toby.

“I think you should go home,” Toby told Josh but it was clear Josh had no intention of going anywhere.

“I came here to talk to Sam. This is your house but it’s my problem to fix. Can you give us a few minutes?” 

Josh’s words were answered by the sound of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. “Your problem! You think this only concerns you? This is all about Josh and how bad he feels?” Sam felt a hand on his arm and shrugged it off. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you, Josh? Why do you think I lied and pretended I couldn’t remember and dodged any question that led to the truth?” Sam walked closer to Josh who stood. “You can’t fix this. You can’t change it. Nothing is better now that you know, it just means that you feel like shit too and I’ve got to feel bad about that as well as everything else.”

Josh held out his hand but Sam backed away. “Sam, listen to me. I can get whoever did this. I can find out who was responsible and then at least someone will pay for it.”

“The FBI has who did this and they’re no further to knowing anything. I don’t want a investigation that involves all of DC knowing every little detail. I was mugged, that’s what everyone thinks so let’s leave it at that. They’ll be rumours and I guess a few people know the truth but let’s just leave it as it is.”

Toby wasn’t sure if he agreed with Sam or not and he knew the words were being spoken emotionally and minds might change in the cold light of day. He also knew that if Josh didn’t leave soon things would be said that would be regretted and most likely by him. “Okay, let’s just take some time to think about this. Josh, you’ve had a shock and I don’t think talking about it is going to get us anywhere right now.”

“So I just forget it, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying you’re upset and Sam’s upset so it’s probably not the most-”

“You think I’m going to just pretend I don’t know the truth? You can keep it a secret, Sam, but I won’t. You’re happy with people thinking you were mugged in an alleyway, fine, but I’m not happy with people thinking we knew the truth and didn’t do anything about it. What’s next, Sam, you going to give your milk money to every pissed off Republican you meet?”

Toby was a helpless bystander as Sam flew at Josh. Sam had him against the wall with his shirt balled in his hand before Toby managed to get moving. Sam’s grip tightened. His cast wrist served to add extra weight to Josh’s chest as he pushed him more firmly against the wall. The two men stared at each other intensely and so Toby backed off and waited. 

“You fucking idiot! You don’t get it. It’s that sort of crap that got me beat up in the first place.” 

Josh lifted his hands and placed them over Sam’s. He pushed him away and easily held his weakened friend away from him. Sam’s breathing was already becoming laboured and Josh could feel his hands shaking within his. He knew he should back off but the horror he felt at being the cause of the attack was surfacing as anger and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “No! You got beat up because you’re known for being Josh Lyman’s friend more than you are for being a fucking politician!”

Toby moved quickly but he was too slow to stop Sam’s hand from rising up and slamming into Josh. Josh stumbled against the wall and down. The edge of Sam’s cast had caught him on the nose and blood gushed freely down his face and shirt. Sam also stumbled backwards, his cast wrist immediately brought into his stomach and covered by his other arm.

 

For a few moments there was silence followed by a mumbled curse. Toby helped Josh up and placed a towel into his hands. He pointed the way to the bathroom but Josh shook his head, picked up his coat and made his way to the door. He held the door open. “Phone me when you get home.” Josh nodded and walked out without looking back.

Toby’s main concern was still sitting on the floor, his face pale and his wrist still held protectively. Toby squatted down beside him and was surprised when Sam leant against him. “Let me see.” Toby tried to move Sam’s arm away from his wrist but he held on tightly and shook his head. He was sweating and seemed even paler than before. “If it’s broken we need to go back to the ER.” Sam still wouldn’t let Toby touch his wrist and when Toby saw the moisture in Sam’s eyes he backed off. “Okay, let me phone and see what they say, okay?” Toby knew exactly what they would say. Bring Sam straight to the ER. 

The thought of going back to hospital for a third time made Sam lift his head and straighten slightly. “It’s not broken,” Sam said in a shaky voice. Toby had the phone in his hand and looked down at Sam doubtfully. “It’s not,” Sam repeated and looked up at Toby, almost pleading with him to put down the phone. Toby continued to stare down at Sam before reluctantly placing the phone back on the table.

“Okay, but if I think you need to go then you’ll go.”

Sam nodded his acquiescence and reached out his good hand for Toby to help him to his feet. He let Toby guide him to the sofa and happily took the two painkillers that were offered to him along with a glass of water. He placed the empty glass down and settled back against the cushions. “Man, that hurt.”

“Well, you should have read the care leaflet. Don’t get your cast wet, don’t attempt to ease itching by poking objects inside of it, don’t wear nail polish so you can observe the colour of your fingertips, oh, yeah, and don’t smack someone so hard that you floor them with your cast!”

Sam held up his hand to indicate he’d got the message. “Did you memorise the dos and don’ts for my prescription drugs as well?”

“Well someone needs to!” Toby stood up and picked up the empty glass. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly.

Toby sighed and perched on the coffee table in front of Sam. “You don’t need to be.” He rolled the glass around in his hands and looked down at the drop of liquid that spun inside of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think you’ve just witnessed a pretty good demonstration of why I thought not telling was the way to go.”

“Yeah, but we could have controlled this, told Josh in a way you were comfortable with.” Toby stilled the glass and placed it back on the table. “You could have told me.”

Sam shrugged but his words made a lie of the easy gesture. “Now it goes on and on and on. Now I’ll be speaking to Ron, looking at more mug shots, going through all my emails, correspondence and past meetings with agents, making new statements and for Josh it will be even worse and that means the administration will have two senior staffers out of commission. It will just go on now and I won’t be-”

“Won’t be what?”

“In control.”

Toby stood and came to sit next to Sam. “Did you feel in control before?”

“Yes, no, slightly I suppose. No one knew the truth except me. I thought I could make it go away.” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “That was pretty stupid.”

“Naïve maybe but understandable.” The two men sat in silence for a few moments. The phone’s sudden, shrill ringing made them jump. Toby answered in monosyllabic words before hanging up and returning to the sofa. “That was Josh. He got home okay.” Sam nodded in response. “He was out of line. He knows that and you know that he didn’t mean what he said.”

“Do I?” Sam questioned. 

Toby didn’t have much sympathy with Josh and so was finding it hard to play the role of peacemaker. “No, you probably don’t but you do know that everything Josh said was because he was upset after finding out the truth.”

Sam tipped his head back and sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed absently at the stab wound on his arm. 

“I know it’s hard but you have to remember that what happened with Gillmore wasn’t what Josh intended to happen.” A soft snort came from beside him but Toby continued. “That’s not to say that what he intended wasn’t bad but we know that Josh would never have put someone through what Gillmore’s wife has been through, intentionally.”

Sam opened his eyes and blew out a long breath. 

“You also have to realise that Josh is devastated to learn that the beating was because of his actions but he’s not going to just come out and say it, not yet anyway, so you just need to-”

“Hit him again,” Sam interrupted, “I just need to hit him again because for that brief moment I actually felt unafraid, I actually found a use for the anger and fear. So, forgive me if I don’t want to sit here discussing Josh’s motives and feelings. He said I was known as his friend more than a politician and I don’t care how upset he was that was a fucking shitty thing to say.” Sam stood up and looked down at Toby. “And you know what? I think he believes it too. He thinks I can’t handle the big bad world of real politics. He thinks I can craft a decent speech and look good for the press but when it comes to policy, well, he stopped talking to me about that a long time ago.” 

Toby saw exhaustion etched so clearly on his face that he saved his reply and suggested Sam go to bed instead. “You’re tired and you’re upset. Get some sleep. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Toby watched as Sam turned and walked towards the spare room. He was just about to enter when Toby called his name. “You know, policy isn’t much without a decent speech to inspire people to believe in it.” For the first time since Josh had arrived Toby saw a smile flit across Sam’s face. He locked eyes with Toby for a moment and then went into the room.

 

Josh had lied. He wasn’t home. His nose had stopped bleeding though so he supposed that was something. He pressed the buzzer again and waited. Finally the door was opened a crack and then more fully. “Not again!” was mumbled as Donna reached forward and guided Josh towards the sofa.

 

“I don’t know,” Toby kept the phone lodged between his shoulder and ear as he buttered a slice of toast. “He doesn’t know either.” He placed the knife down and held the phone in his hand once more. “He’s okay, hasn’t really said much.” He walked towards the door and picked the paper up off the mat. “Toast, I’m eating toast.” Returning to the kitchen he placed a glass of orange on a tray and poured one for himself. “I’m going to speak to him, see what he wants to do.” A cup of coffee was added and the phone tucked back on his shoulder as he lifted the tray. “Yeah, you talk to Josh, and then we’ll meet and decide where to go from there.” He said goodbye to Leo and balanced the tray carefully as he knocked on the door. There was a mumbled reply and so Toby pushed it open and placed the tray on the bedside table. Slowly, the tangled mass of comforter untwisted and Sam emerged from beneath it. 

“Hey,” he croaked as he pushed the pillows up behind him and sat back. He knew Toby had to go to work soon but he also knew that he needed to talk to him before he did. He took a few sips of the juice and tried to allow the cool liquid to help him become more alert. Placing the glass back down, he looked up at Toby. “Okay, so what are we going to do?”

“Leo’s going to talk to Josh.”

Sam frowned. “That’s the plan?”

“And I’m going to talk to you.”

“Ah, and then, let me guess, you’re going to talk to Leo.”

Toby rolled his eyes and perched on the edge of the bed. “That’s about it, yeah.”

“Good plan,” Sam said reaching once more for the juice.

“What do you want to happen? You know that we have to tell Ron now, that’s out of our control, but what do you want to happen?”

Sam considered Toby’s question for a few moments and then sat up straighter before replying. “I want to go back to that night and instead of going outside when Josh pissed me off I want to go to the bar and order a beer.”

“Okay and now answer again but this time remember I’m not a time lord,” Toby replied, amazed at his newfound patience with Sam. 

“I suppose, now that Josh knows, I suppose I should say that I want to find out who was behind it but I don’t.”

“They could do it again. They’ve got away with it so they could do it again. Maybe they’ve done it before.” Toby sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t believe that for a moment. This wasn’t done by someone who’s out there waiting for his next innocent victim. This was an act of revenge, plain and simple, a message to the enemies of Gillmore but with boots, fists and knives instead of email and delivered by two paid thugs. What are we going to learn by having a couple of names, that there are vindictive, violent men roaming the corridors of DC? Well, I think we already knew that.”

“Okay.” Toby stood and picked up Sam’s empty glass. “I’ll make sure the others know how you feel but I’m going to be guided by Leo on this one. If he thinks we go public then we do. I know you’re seeing it all personally but I also know you’re wise enough to see the bigger picture.” Toby looked down at Sam and pulled a face that invited Sam to agree.

“Not sure I care too much about the bigger picture anymore, Toby.” Sam held Toby’s stare for only a moment before looking away again. “Go to work, have your powwows and then let me know what I’m in for.” Sam watched as Toby nodded and then turned towards the door. “I’m not doing any press though,” Sam called after him, “not one interview, article or statement.” Again Toby nodded and Sam heard the sound of the glass being placed on the sideboard and then the front door closing before he rolled over and went back to sleep.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Michael Berridge had come to the conclusion that getting Dennis Harmon involved in the attack on Sam Seaborn had been his biggest mistake since setting foot in DC. He thought he’d be a pushover. He owed him big time and Michael thought that paying that debt and knowing he was off his radar permanently would be enough to silence the man for good. Unfortunately, Dennis didn’t seem to see it that way. He was a nervous wreck and becoming increasingly unstable. Michael knew he had to do something and do it fast. But first he would have a drink and sit and watch the people going by the window of the diner as he waited for Harmon to arrive. He knew as soon as he saw him that Dennis was more of a wreck that he had been before.

“Just sit down and let me get you a coffee,” Michael ordered as he watched the nervous man tip a menu off the table as he moved around it. Michael was smiling but there was no warmth to it. “Jesus, Dennis, just relax will you!” He waited until the drinks had been ordered and arrived before getting to the reason for the quickly arranged meet up.  
“Things might get a little more uncomfortable over the next few days.”

The coffee slurped over the edge of Dennis’ cup as he shifted uneasily at Michael’s words. “What are you talking about? You said to just sit tight. You said we’re home free, nothing to connect us, nothing to fear.”

Michael nodded slowly and pulled the cup to safety from Dennis’ shaking hands. “You should sit tight, we are home free and we’ve got nothing to fear. Nothing’s changed. We’re still safe unless you lose it and I’ve got to be honest, Dennis, I’m beginning to think that’s a real possibility.”

Dennis was unnerved even more by Michael’s calm demeanour. He made an effort to match it but knew it was useless.

“Listen,” Michael leaned forward invading Dennis’ space, “it’s more important than ever now that you stop acting the way you are. People are talking and although no one’s linked anything to the attack if you carry on like this they will. So listen up and get your act together.” Dennis listened and grew paler with each word as Michael told him the latest turn of events.

 

In the time it took for Toby to get into his car, drive to work, park and enter the building, all hell had broken loose. He knew something was wrong when he was greeted by Ginger saying, ‘Leo’s office’. He glanced up at the TV screen as he walked through the Bullpen. It wasn’t that unusual to see a picture of Sam on it but the fact that it was followed by an image of Gillmore made his stomach turn. On entering Leo’s office his fears were confirmed.

“They’ve got it,” Leo growled as soon as he saw Toby. “Fox broke it just now and all the networks are following.”

Toby walked closer to the television and watched as another picture of Sam was shown on the screen. He listened as a reporter told how an unnamed source had claimed that Sam’s attack was in revenge for the treatment of Gillmore and his wife. He closed his eyes as another man in the studio went on to say that there would surely have to be an investigation which ended in some sort of trial. “Some sort of trial!” Toby scoffed. “Do these people actually get paid for spouting this crap?”

Footage of Sam and the President at a function in the White House was played while the reporter suggested that the whole thing had actually been set up by the Bartlet administration in order to win some sympathy from the disillusioned voters following the MS revelations. 

“If you like having a TV in your office I suggest you turn it off now.” Toby said to Leo.

“You’re getting the urge to throw something at it?” Leo asked as he bent over and switched it off.

“Yeah, Josh possibly.”

Leo rolled his eyes and shook his head. “This is something of a fix, isn’t it?”

Toby nodded and realising he was still wearing his coat, began to shrug it off. “Josh knows all about this. He came over last night to ask Sam if it was true. It didn’t go well.”

“He isn’t in yet.” Leo moved back to behind his desk and sat down. “We have to respond to this.”

“Do we?” Toby folded his coat and hung it over the arm of the sofa and then sat down wearily. “What did CJ say?”

“She said we have to respond to this.”

Toby let out a sigh. “Sam doesn’t want us to.”

“Sam didn’t want to be beaten up and left bleeding in an alley but he was and this is where we’re at.” Leo looked up as CJ entered the room.

“We have to respond to this,” she said.

“Yeah, I got that,” Toby answered. “Why?”

“Because we can’t let another cycle of rumour and speculation go by without doing so. White House agents will head the investigation. We’ll be the ones controlling the story. It provides an opportunity for Josh to make a statement and let the Gillmore story finally die and, not that we’d ever set something like this up, but the fact remains that it won’t do us any harm to be the victims for a while especially if we fight back and oust the nasty Republicans responsible.” CJ raised her eyes at Toby’s incredulous stare. “Stop thinking as a friend and start thinking as one of the President’s advisers. As Sam’s friend I want to switch off the TV and make him soup and cookies until it’s safe to switch it back on again.”

Toby smiled and instantly forgot his initial reaction to CJ’s words. She was right and he forced himself to forget Sam for just a moment. “It’s got to be Ron leading the investigation and alongside the DC police. Josh can make as many statements as he likes but Sam isn’t making any, no press at all and no statements, not even a soundbite.”

Leo and CJ nodded. They both knew if anyone had a handle on what Sam was thinking and feeling at the moment it was Toby. “Toby, Counsel’s office are waiting to meet with you. CJ, speak to Ron, speak to Toby and when he gets in, speak to Josh.”

Toby and CJ stood at Leo’s orders and set off to their respective offices but then Toby changed his mind and followed CJ to hers.

 

“How is he?” she asked him as he stood in the doorway.

Toby sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Putting a brave face on it I think my grandmother used to call it.”

“Mine too.” He smiled and followed her gesture for him to sit on the sofa. “Just a few moments out of what I’m pretty certain is going to be high on my list of shitty days,” she explained as she sat down beside him. “You need to phone him.”

“I know. I think he went back to sleep after I left. He sleeps a lot in the morning. He doesn’t sleep much at night,” Toby explained and CJ frowned at the implications of his words. “With any luck we’ll have a clearer plan of action by the time he wakes up and sees the…” Toby trailed off, he knew full well that allowing Sam to wake up and turn on the news to find himself as the lead story wasn’t go to do much to aid his recovery. “I’ll phone him,” Toby said in a tone that made it clear he was not looking forward to it.

“And so our few moments comes to an end,” CJ said as she stood up along with Toby. “Do you feel better for it?”

Toby nodded. “I’m a new man.”

“Well that’s good then.” She pivoted towards her desk and Toby set off for his office hoping that by some miracle Sam would be too dead to the world to hear the phone.

 

 

The ringtone was shrill but it still took Sam a few moments to pull himself to wakefulness enough to reach over and pick it up. “Hmm?” he managed as he pulled the covers off his face.

“Are you still in bed?”

For a moment the gruffly voiced question had Sam panicking that there was some chore he was meant to be doing. Maybe he’d told his dad he’d clean the swimming pool or mow the lawn or something but then the last of his drowsiness left him as he realised whose voice had asked the question. “Not only am I still in bed but I’m still in bed asleep…or I was.” There was a pause and Sam frowned. “Toby?”

“You need to come in. There’s been a development.”

“Development?” Sam’s initial thoughts were not of how the situation could have worsened for him but of Josh and what may have happened to him after he’d left last night bloodied and despondent. “Is it Josh? What’s happened?”

That was the last thing Toby thought Sam would think and he quickly put his mind to rest before telling Sam again to come in. “It’s out there, Sam, the accusation that your attack was revenge for what happened to Gillmore, the press have it.”

“Give me half an hour,” Sam said. He unwrapped the covers that were tangled around his legs and headed straight for the shower. He was showered, shaved and dressed before the full impact of Toby’s words hit him and he slumped down onto the sofa, coat on, keys jingling in his hands. He reached for the TV remote and switched it on. A former Congressman whom he had never liked was talking, offering his insider knowledge. Sam hit the mute button and watched as his lips moved, open and closed, splattering accusations and speculation that Sam knew would stain him if he listened to it. He switched the TV off and sat staring at the blank screen for a few moments. His cellphone ringing disturbed his trance and he glanced at the name on the display before standing up and walking quickly towards the door. “I know I said half an hour. I’m on my way.”

 

Josh had woken an hour ago but had made little progress towards actually feeling awake. He had thrown up three times, dipped his head in a sink full of cold water and drunk two glasses of juice but still felt like his body wasn’t connected to his head except for his stomach which was making its presence very clear.

“Do you want to throw up again or are you ready to go?” Donna stood by the door holding his suit jacket by her finger tips and looking disdainfully at him.

“Go, definitely go.” Josh got up from the sofa and walked towards her. The plan was to drop him at his place so he could shower and change and then go on to work. His cellphone rang and he looked frantically for it until Donna, following the noise, pulled it out from behind the sofa. She started to open the door thinking Josh would follow her out but stopped when she saw his face paling as he reached for the TV remote. “Shit!” Donna closed the door and walked back into the apartment. Josh hung up and clicked on three different news channels before repeating his curse. He looked up at Donna and she was taken aback by the guilt she saw on his face. 

“Come on.” He followed her out and they drove in silence to his place.

 

If walking through the corridors of the West Wing as a victim of an attack returning to work had been difficult, then walking through them as the lead story on every news channel was even more so. Sam preferred the awkward glances and quickly changed topics of conversation to the welcome back greetings though. It meant he could put his head down, ignore everyone and hurry to the relative safety of Toby’s office.

Toby was on the phone when he arrived but whoever it was couldn’t have been that important as he said goodbye and hung up as soon as he saw Sam at the door. “Okay?” he asked as he took Sam’s coat from him and hung it on the stand.

“I’ve been better. In fact I can think of a number of occasions when I’ve felt infinitely better than this and not too many when I felt worse.”

“Yeah.” Toby studied Sam for a moment. “No decision has been made. I’ve met with counsel and CJ’s meeting with me in a while. We’re going back to Leo then, you too.”

Sam nodded and sat down on the sofa but then stood up again and walked over to the window. “Did you tell them I don’t want to make any statements?”

“Yes.” Toby stood beside him. “This is all going to work out. Couple of weeks it’ll be forgotten. We just have to hope that the President rides his bicycle into a tree again.”

Sam smiled gratefully at Toby’s attempt to lighten the mood. “I keep thinking, whoever was behind the attack, they must have planned this. They must have known I didn’t tell Josh and so made sure he got it this way. Maybe they didn’t know for sure but guessed because nothing was being said or done or maybe they did know, maybe there’s someone in the White House who’s involved with this and they know exactly what was said and what I said and what-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Toby said.

“Sorry.” Sam shrugged. “I haven’t had time to think this through and I’m trying to get it straight in my head before I have to face Leo and the others.”

“Face them? Since when did talking to your friends become something you had to face?”

Sam frowned. “You know what I mean, Toby!”

“Okay, let me meet with CJ then I’ll come get you.” He watched as Sam walked towards the door. “You got things to do?” 

Sam peered at his desk through the window. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Toby pulled his chair away from his desk. “The stuff in the black folder should have been revised last Tuesday. The notes for what I’m laughingly calling a speech are in my tray.”

Sam pulled the pad from Toby’s tray. “Yikes!” Red pen was dashed all over the work which had been crossed out and rewritten numerous times.

“Yeah,” Toby agreed before shutting the door behind him and leaving Sam to it.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Sam worked for an hour on the speech. By the time Toby came back he had reworked half of the middle section and added a list of ideas for the last section. He’d started off by writing but then Ginger had knocked on the door and told him that Toby had said he might need a hand. Sam noticed the pen and pad she was carrying and smiled. He leaned back in the chair and dictated his ideas to her. Toby came into his office to find Sam leaning back, feet on his coffee table and hands behind his head. “Let me see,” he said as he looked at Ginger’s pad. “Good,” he nodded then added, “Get your feet off my table.” They walked together to Leo’s office.

 

“Crab!” They both looked in surprise at Leo and watched as he walked to the door. “I said crab; you got me ham and cheese! Crab isn’t code for get me whatever you feel like. If I say crab then get me crab.”

Margaret looked up from her typing totally unfazed by Leo’s rant. “I saw the crab. It looked iffy. I got you ham and cheese because one time in New Hampshire you said nothing filled you up like a ha-”

“I’m closing the door on you. I don’t do that often but I’m doing it now.”

“Don’t make crumbs,” was Margaret’s parting shot as the door was closed.

Toby sat down on the sofa next to Josh when it became clear that Sam wasn’t going to and waited for Leo’s sandwich rant to fizzle out.

“Ham and cheese,” he muttered as he lifted the corner away from the pack and shook his head. “You know what?” he asked of no one in particular, “the funny thing is just after Margaret left with my lunch order I kind of changed my mind about the crab and had a hankering for ham and cheese.” He shook his head, sandwich fillings a cause of puzzlement known only to him.

CJ had yet to arrive and there was a sudden silence in the room while they waited. Leo picked up a report from his desk while Josh sat staring rigidly at the carpet. Toby gestured for Sam to sit as well but he shook his head and remained standing near the door.

The door opened and CJ entered walking quickly to the sofa where she sat between Josh and Toby. Instantly aware of the tension in the room she shifted uncomfortably and waited for Leo to say something.

“Okay, so here’s where we’re at. The story’s out there and there’s not a lot we can do about that. There’s gonna be two camps on this: those who think we should say nothing and those who think we should confront it and maybe even use it to our advantage.” He stared at Sam. He was looking back at Leo but his head was down. “Get your head up, son.” There was no admonishment in Leo’s tone but rather a show of support and concern. “I’m in the confront them camp. CJ is too. Toby?” All eyes shifted to the sofa.

“I’ve spoken to Counsel’s Office and I think we’ve got to go up against this. Investigate, air it, and then move on.”

Leo nodded and looked to the other side of the sofa. “Josh?”

“I, er,” Josh cleared his throat. “I think we go for it.” Painfully aware of his comments last night he was treading carefully in order not to upset Sam in any way. 

“That’s good, Josh. What exactly is it you think we should go for?”

Josh nodded, acknowledging his ambiguous answer. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat more forcefully. “I think we go after the source of the accusation and then we go after the people responsible for the attack and then we go-”

“Hey, maybe we could invade a few countries while we’re going after so many people. Is there any way we can get everyone connected to this on one small undefended island then just bomb them all!”

Nobody replied. Toby shot Sam a frown and CJ glanced uneasily between Josh and Sam. 

“Sam, Josh, find a way to at least be able to sit in the same room together. I’m not going to get involved in what’s going on here but sort it out.” Both men nodded and looked suitably abashed although Toby saw the edge of anger lingering on Sam and it concerned him more than the outburst had.

Leo walked to the front of his desk. “CJ, get ready for the briefing; The White House is looking into the accusation etc etc. Toby, work with Josh on a statement. Actually work on two. One that addresses the Gillmore incident and one that doesn’t.” 

“So we write a statement in response to an accusation that Sam was beaten up in revenge for what happened to Gillmore but we don’t actually mention Gillmore?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit like writing a speech about increased funding without actually saying how much, where it’s going to or where it’s coming from. We’ve done that before haven’t we, Toby?”

Toby’s small smile was matched by CJ’s and for a moment there was a lessening of tension in the room.

“Sam?” Sam looked up at Leo, immediately worried that his head had dipped again. “The President would like a word.”

Toby shot a look at Sam and saw the surprise flash across his face. It hadn’t occurred to him that The President might want to speak to Sam and Toby wondered if he was up to it or if the anger that still seemed to be clinging to him would manifest itself again. He watched as Sam took a barely perceptible sharp intake of breath then straightened and left the room.

 

Sam loved the Oval Office in the evening when the hubbub of the day had faded away. He loved it in the afternoon when the chink of china could be heard alongside discussions, but, he loved it most in the morning. He loved how the colours of faded fabric and rich carpets were brought to life by a sun that seemed to focus entirely on the room, each ray directing his eye to a piece of history that he would never tire of being reminded of.

It was sunny now. He even had to squint slightly as he walked towards Bartlet and returned the warm shake of his hand. Bartlet gestured to the sofa and then sat in a chair opposite. “I’m not going to get involved with all the stuff with Gillmore. Leo’s handling that, unless you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, sir,” Sam replied.

“No, I didn’t think you would.” The President sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “So, how are you doing?”

“How am I doing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m doing fine. How are you doing, Mr President?”

“I’m doing fine as well.” There was a short silence. “Seeing as how we’re both fine and dandy, how do you feel about accompanying me to The Kennedy Center tonight to listen to Mozart’s Divertimento in E-flat major?”

Sam raised his eyebrows and was about to say how honored he was by the invite but then a small smile ghosted across his face. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved with all the stuff about Gillmore, Sir?”

“I’m not, but I don’t see anything wrong with the President and one of his most trusted and dedicated members of staff going to listen to Mozart as played by the Kennedy Center’s Chamber Players.”

Sam returned the President’s gaze. “Neither do I.”

“Good!” Bartlet stood and clapped his hands. “It starts at eight. I’ll see you back here then.” He watched as Sam stood and added, “Josh will be coming along too.”

Sam stilled and looked up sharply at Bartlet. “Oh.”

“Well it was CJ’s idea,” Bartlet hedged sensing Sam’s agitation. “It’s not a bad idea. If people are going to come at Josh or you then I think it’s not a bad idea that they’re reminded exactly who’s on your side.” Sam nodded slowly. “Let’s show them that whatever’s being said out there, we’re not divided in here. Show them that you and Josh have moved on and put an end to some of those rumours.”

“Well, there might be a problem with that, sir.”

“Oh?”

“We haven’t exactly moved on. I mean we haven’t moved on as yet.”

Bartlet sat down again and gestured to Sam to do the same. “Haven’t moved on in what sense?”

“In the sense that the last time I saw Josh he was bleeding quite impressively from an injury to his nose which I had caused with my fist.”

“Ah, in that sense.” Bartlet nodded thoughtfully, “CJ didn’t mention that when she was briefing me earlier.”

“No, sir.” 

“Can you promise me you won’t try to punch him again during the Divertimento?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “I can.”

Bartlet returned the smile. “Okay. I’ll see you back here at eight then.” He stood and Sam followed his lead and thanked him. He was halfway to the door when the President stopped him. “My support, Sam, it’s more than just a photo op.” Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised that the President would think he didn’t know that. “And, it really is very good to see you here again. You’ve been missed.” Sam thanked the President and they stood in silence until Bartlet nodded and Sam returned the gesture and left the room.

 

 

“He’s taking me to the Kennedy Center tonight,” Sam announced as he walked into Toby’s office.

“Yeah, listen-”

“To listen to Mozart’s Divertimento.”

“I know, listen, he told you-”

“I’m more a Beethoven fan but I’m willing to partake of some Mozart if-”

“He told you Josh was going?” Toby finally interrupted and then waited as Sam sat down on the sofa before answering.

“Yes, he did point out that minor detail. I’m more of a Toby fan at the moment but-”

Toby interrupted him again. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

Sam sighed and settled back against the cushions. “I don’t see that I have much choice. Anyway, CJ’s right, it will send a strong message if me and Josh are seen with the President, for Josh especially. I may have my differences with Josh right now but I wouldn’t deny him an opportunity like this.” Sam shrugged and reached for a muffin from the coffee table. “Besides, I’ve got to work with him. I can’t be picking and choosing which functions we attend together.”

“Those were for my meeting.” Toby rearranged the muffins to hide the gap in the basket. “So long as you know what you’re getting into. I don’t want you coming back tonight telling me you’ve been played by CJ and the President.”

“Aw, Toby, you’re going to wait up for me! That is so sweet of you.”

“You’re making crumbs,” Toby growled. 

Sam carefully pulled his shirt into a makeshift tray and emptied the rest of the crumbs into the trashcan. “I better get going. I’ll need to go back to my place to pick up my suit. I’ll see you back here?”

Toby nodded and watched as Sam made his way out of the Bullpen only to be accosted by Ginger and Bonnie. He looked back down at his work or rather the work which had been salvaged by Sam and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that despite his words, Sam was nowhere near ready to face Josh yet.

 

“I don’t want to go.” It was as close to a whine as Josh got and Donna frowned at him.

“Okay, well I’ll tell the President, you can tell CJ.”

Josh held his arms up in surrender. “I know I have to go but I don’t want to go is what I’m saying.”

Donna kicked the door to his office closed and walked over to his desk. The banter disappeared as she leaned over it looking straight at him. “Is this your Mozart/falling asleep thing or the other thing?”

“What other thing?” Josh asked, genuinely puzzled.

“The ‘I can’t cope with the thought of seeing Sam or even being in the same room as him because I feel guilty and he feels mad and the last time we saw each other he nearly broke my nose’ thing.”

Josh tipped his head to one side. “That’s a long thing.”

“Josh!” Donna folded her arms and stared at Josh daring him to dodge the subject again.

Josh’s smile disappeared and he raked a hand through his hair. “Of course I don’t want to see Sam again. I said something I…”

Donna walked around the desk and stood beside Josh’s chair. “It doesn’t matter what you said. It’s all in the past. Sam knows that you were just upset. He won’t hold it a-”

“Just listen. Stop talking for one minute and listen!”

Donna waited patiently for Josh to collect himself and continue.

“I can live with the Gillmore stuff. We’d have got past that eventually. He was pissed at me for more than that anyway. We hadn’t spoken, not properly, for months. I think what I did and how Sam reacted to it was just a sort of, I don’t know, it sort of made all our differences magnified.” Josh looked up at Donna and she nodded, encouraging him to continue. “But I said some stuff…” Josh shook his head in self reproach. “I said he was known more for being my friend than he was as a politician.” He didn’t need to look at Donna’s face to picture her reaction so he didn’t, he looked down at his shoes. “And I don’t think it’s true and I don’t know why I said it.”

Donna thought before replying. “You need to unsay it then. You can’t keep blowing up at him. What you said in the restaurant that night was bad enough. Tell him you were speaking in anger, emotion, whatever. But you need to show him also. You need to find a way to make him know you didn’t mean it.”

Josh waited and then held his hands out. “Well? You’re meant to carry on and tell me how to do it.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Sorry, Josh, but I don’t. I do know that ignoring him isn’t helping too much.”

“I’m not ignoring him!”

“Oh so that’s why you nearly broke your neck trying to get back to your office when you heard Ginger tell me that Sam was in.”

Josh sighed deeply. The fact that he didn’t bother denying the accusation proved Donna was right. “I just want to make things right. I want to stop feeling like this. Sam doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve a friend like me.”

Donna shook her head slowly and smiled. “Josh, no one deserves you. I often ask myself what I did to deserve, you. I come to the conclusion it must have been something pretty bad. It’s not your choice to make. You don’t get to walk away because it’s getting difficult. You have to let Sam decide if you’re worth it.”

Josh raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “Isn’t that a bad premise for someone deciding if they want to be my friend?”

Donna smiled more widely. “I don’t know. I manage to find something redeemable about you. I’m still here aren’t I, not making you coffee?” 

“Talking of which-”

“Puppy eyes and a sad frowning face and it’s still not enough to make me want to get you a cup of coffee.” 

Josh nodded at her retreating form. “I bet Ginger makes Sam coffee.” He peered around the doorjamb. “I bet she thinks he’s worth it,” he called out to her.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

The cameras’ flashes started even before the door to The Presidential Limo was opened. Bartlet got out, closely followed by Sam and Josh and made sure they were either side of him before walking quickly toward the entrance. “Smile, Josh,” he ordered through his grin. “If CJ kills me because you weren’t smiling I’ll have to make sure someone kills you as well.”

Josh quickly plastered a smile onto his face and made sure he looked towards the cameras as he, Sam and the President passed by. They were seated quickly, too quickly for either Josh or Sam to think about where they were sitting and before they knew it they were planted next to each other both suspecting CJ of the maneuver. Ten minutes into the performance and Josh began to relax. He didn’t know if Sam was ignoring him or not as there had been no real opportunity to talk. The lights had dimmed almost as soon as they had sat down and the first notes were floating towards them before either man had so much as glanced at the other. 

In the dark of the concert hall though Josh did glance at Sam and realized that he was looking nowhere near as relaxed as Josh was feeling. The music was beautiful and that alone was helping Josh to allow himself just a few hours of not thinking about Gillmore, the press or being punched in the face by Sam. Clearly Sam wasn’t responding to the music in the same manner. He was sat forward in his chair, his elbows on the arm rests beside him and hands clenched between them. He was looking at the musicians but didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the sound they were producing. Josh looked away and pulled his arms in to give Sam more space.

 

Twenty minutes into the performance and Josh glanced at Sam again. This time he wasn’t even looking at the stage. His head was bowed and his eyes closed. Josh took the opportunity to study him. He was pale. He could tell that even in the dim light. His hands were no longer clenched but fiddling with the tassel that hung from the binoculars which were attached to the back of the seat in front. Occasionally a tremor ran through Sam although he did his best to hide it. Josh was taken by surprise when Sam’s eyes suddenly opened and he found him looking straight at him.

“You okay?” Josh asked forgetting for a moment the fear of being ignored. Sam frowned and nodded. The tassel dropped from his fingers and he sat back in his seat. Josh heard him quietly clear his throat and caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as Sam pulled at his collar. “You sure?”

“Yes!” Sam’s reply was loud enough for a few people sitting nearby to turn around. Sam rolled his eyes at Josh and focused his attention back on the stage. Josh wasn’t convinced but turned away and settled back in his seat. 

Sam pulled as discretely as he could at his tight collar which felt like it was becoming tighter with each breath he drew and clasped his hands in an attempt to control the shaking of them. A brief look at the program on his lap told him he had another ten minutes to wait until the interval. He took a deep breath and told himself he could manage that. But then he realised that if he crept out now he would have a few moments to himself. He wasn’t feeling any better. He knew he was having a panic attack or whatever it was he’d been having at Toby’s place. He cursed himself for thinking he would cope with the evening. He had hardly been out at all since the attack and apart from trips to the hospital or work he hadn’t felt particularly safe when he had gone anywhere. 

Having decided on getting out of his seat he looked around for the nearest exit. A small mirthless laugh escaped him as he looked to his right and saw the green exit sign. Below it was the corridor he needed to head for but it was dark and it was too much like an alleyway to cause anything but a surge of renewed panic. Sam shook his head. He was trapped.

Josh had turned at the sound of laughter from his friend. He noticed the shaking hands and fine sheen of sweat plastered on his forehead. “Sam, you don’t look so good,” he whispered and this time Sam’s huff of laughter was loud enough to again warrant attention from those just in front of and behind him. 

Sam pulled his forearm out of Josh’s grasp. He glanced again at the exit to his right and then down at the stage that seemed to loom towards him. Suddenly the fact that it was Josh beside him didn’t make any difference. If it had been the President himself he’d have said the same thing. “Get me out of here,” he pleaded and Josh immediately sprang into action. 

He grasped Sam’s arm and pulled him upwards. Sam heard whispered apologies as Josh guided him towards the end of the row. Once there they stood facing the exit. Sam stopped abruptly but Josh grabbed his arm and guided him on. Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled along the corridor. He opened them again when he heard a door open and then close behind him. Pulling away from Josh, he walked quickly towards the basin in the restroom and turned the cold tap on full. He splashed the cool water onto his face and heard Josh telling him to breathe so he did that too.

 

After a while he realized he had conquered the worst of it and turned the tap off. A towel was thrust in front of him and he took it gladly. His legs remained unsteady so he maintained his grip on the basin. Then he remembered Josh. He looked into the mirror in front of him and saw Josh’s reflection staring back. Both men maintained the silence which was once so easy between them but was now crackling with tension.

Sam looked back down at the basin and slowly released his grip. He didn’t know what to do and so reluctantly looked to Josh. 

“Interval’s in five minutes. Shall we get a drink?” Josh suggested. Sam nodded and followed him from the room. 

Josh shepherded Sam to the bar and past the row of preordered drinks lined along it. He gestured to the patio and Sam went ahead. Josh walked back to the bar and looked for the name of a senator he disliked. He smiled when he saw Senator Stanley Randle scribbled onto a slip beside four tumblers of bourbon. “Senator Randle’s drinks,” Josh said to the barman who nodded absently as he continued to prepare for the busy interval. Josh emptied two of the glasses into the remaining two. “Cheers, Stanley,” he toasted as he headed outside.

 

The air was cool and Sam welcomed the refreshing breeze as it soothed away the last of his panic. He took a glass from Josh who sat beside him on the steps that led to the seating area. Neither man attempted to make conversation. It was not a time to begin a discussion about what had happened the other night and neither had any desire to talk about anything else. Sam downed his bourbon and Josh raised his eyebrows in admiration wishing he hadn’t been cursed with a weak constitution, as Donna called it. Eventually the silence was broken by the sound of the bar filling up and Sam and Josh realized they’d either have to walk through the packed space or remain outside until it emptied again. People began to filter outside so Sam and Josh stood and walked over to a table at the far end of the patio. 

The table was just on the edge of the outside lights and they were able to hide from anyone who might normally have gone over to talk to them. Josh studied Sam’s hands and was glad to see they were no longer shaking. He had a good colour to his face again as well which was probably aided by the alcohol.

Still no words were spoken. It was no longer an uncomfortable silence but more of a stalemate that neither man was keen to break. The crowd began to return to their seats. Frantic swigs were taken to finish drinks and conversations rushed to a premature end. It was only when the area was clear again that Sam noticed the two agents who remained. It was the first time he’d seen them since coming outside but assumed they’d been close by since they’d left the recital. “Have they always been here?” he asked Josh, his curiosity winning over his determination not to speak.

“They followed us out of the hall and waited outside the restroom. They’ve been a few feet away the whole time. You were probably too…” Josh groped for the word.

“Fucked up?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, you were too fucked up to notice them. But don’t worry, I had your back.” He risked a grin and almost let out a sigh of relief when he saw it answered with a small smile by Sam. “Come on, let’s go catch the rest of the show.” They walked back into the now deserted bar, along the corridor and back into their seats. Josh made a point of not looking at Sam but twenty minutes later he had no choice as a soft snore accompanied the violins and violas. He nudged Sam gently and then turned his attention back to the concert.

 

Arriving back at the White House, Bartlet was whisked away to the Situation Room leaving Josh and Sam to walk along the corridors together. “You headed home or do you feel like a drink or something?” It was the first time Josh had addressed Sam since their short exchange outside the bar.

“I think I’ll just go see if Toby’s still around.”

Josh slowed his pace so as not to make it too obvious that Sam was walking more slowly than usual. “Okay, but you didn’t really answer my question there.”

“I don’t know if it escaped your attention but I’m having a little trouble keeping my eyes open right now so I hope to find Toby in his office waiting for me, because he’s nothing but a big old fuss pot, and he’ll take me home and if I’m really lucky I’ll be able to do all that without bumping into CJ wanting a progress report.”

Josh nodded. It hadn’t escaped his attention and he wanted to avoid CJ too. “Well if Toby isn’t there just come get me, okay?” Sam put his hands in his pockets and looked up when he felt a hand on his arm. “Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam nodded and headed off at a quicker pace towards the Bullpen. 

 

Toby was at his desk writing. His pretence that he wasn’t waiting for Sam was ruined by the way he closed his folder of work and dropped his pen on the table on seeing him.

“You’ve been waiting for me,” Sam said in a voice that displayed his surprise.

“I was catching up,” Toby replied. “Catching up on work and yes, in a way, I suppose I was waiting for you.”

Sam had been planning on teasing Toby for his continued overprotective streak but suddenly realized he was glad of it. He had hoped Toby would be here and here he was. He nodded and said in a much more serious tone. “I’m glad.”

Toby just nodded, switched off the desk lamp and picked up his coat from the sofa. “Let’s go home.”

 

CJ slipped one shoe on and then paused to look again at the front page of the Post. She smiled as she scanned the picture of the President walking towards the Kennedy Center with Josh and Sam. Josh was looking up smiling, not directly at the cameras but definitely with a sense of where they were. Sam was less obliging and although he was smiling it was not in full view of the Press and she knew him well enough to know it was halfhearted. She slipped on her other shoe, picked up the paper and made her way out of her apartment. 

A few miles away Josh was also looking at the paper. He looked at it as the White House Chief of Staff and smiled. Then he looked at it as Sam’s friend and the smile waned. It was a big victory in terms of message sending and setting the backdrop for the fight that was to follow but in terms of doing anything to bring about reconciliation between him and Sam, it was useless.

Toby placed the paper in his briefcase. He’d looked at the front page briefly, his expression not changing as he looked at the headline and accompanying picture. He went to wake Sam before leaving. Somehow it had become part of the routine. There was no need as there was an alarm clock in the spare room, but Toby liked to make sure Sam was okay before he left for work. This morning it was even more important. Sam had spoken little about the concert and what had happened. He’d told Toby that he’d had ‘one of his funnies’ and that Josh had been there so it was okay. 

Toby knocked on the door and took in a cup of coffee. “Paper hasn’t come yet,” he told him as he placed the cup on the bedside table. 

 

Not far from Toby’s house, Dennis Harmon sat in his apartment sipping nervously at his third cup of coffee and trying not to look at the picture in front of him and the headline above it which read ‘President Bartlet Standing by Lyman’. His hands shook and he put down the cup and picked up the paper.

Bartlet’s show of support for Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman was clear last night as was the lack of any signs of a rift between Lyman and fellow senior staffer Sam Seaborn. 

Harmon noticed the paper was shaking and pulled it down onto his lap. 

What is also clear is that the administration seems determined to investigate the person or persons responsible for the accusation that-

Harmon stopped reading and threw the paper onto the floor. He couldn’t remember what he had done, who he had spoken to or what he had said but he knew he’d been drunk and scared. He’d been scared for days now but not drunk and the combination had proved deadly. He had no recollection of telling anyone of his involvement with Michael Berridge or what he had done for him but he knew with absolute certainty that the leak had somehow started with him and he knew that it would be traced back to him sooner or later. He took another sip of coffee and this time didn’t even attempt to steady the cup in his shaking hands. He would sit and wait. Berridge would call. It was only a matter of time.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen 

“So why do you think he’s there in your dreams?”

The question was an obvious one. Sam had told Doctor George Graves that he didn’t blame Josh and then proceeded to tell him how he was always watching him being beaten in his dreams. “What I mean is that it bothers me in my dreams but it’s not something I think about all the time.” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at his clasped hands instead of Graves.

“Okay,” George answered, “Why don’t we get things on a more honest level. For starters let’s call these dreams nightmares which is what I suspect they are.” He looked up and waited for Sam’s slow nod. “And let’s stop being embarrassed by admitting how frightening nearly being beaten to death must have been.” George stared at Sam and waited for him to lift his head. He wouldn’t normally talk to a patient like this but he’d known Sam a long time. A friend of Sam’s mother, he had watched Sam go through college and followed his career and eventual arrival at the White House with interest. It was at his mother’s insistence that Sam made an appointment to see him. He hadn’t seen George for a long time and didn’t know him well enough to make the relationship of doctor and patient uncomfortable. Besides, if he saw George and not the person the hospital had recommended he could tell himself he was just doing it as a favour to his mother and not because he needed to.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sam insisted. George didn’t know whether he was referring to Josh or the attack so he waited sensing that Sam would elaborate. “Can I stand up?” Sam asked and George smiled slightly at the almost child-like request.

“If it means you’ll talk to me and let me help you, you can dance on my desk for all I care.”

Sam rolled his eyes and apologised. “Sorry, I just, I think I’ll talk easier if I move about a bit. I do it when I’m writing sometimes, drives Toby nuts, but sometimes moving around makes the words move around as well you know when they’re stuck…when I’m stuck.”

George wondered briefly what it must be like to watch Sam at work, walking around, moving words and crafting speeches. “You were telling me that something wasn’t a big deal,” he prompted.

Sam walked over to the window and leaned against the frame. The streets below were swarming with commuters and cars, taxis and bicycles. He suddenly wanted to be down there, hidden within the rush. “Josh, the thing with Josh is no big deal. I don’t blame him, not really. I keep trying to think how I’d feel if the same thing happened because of something I’d done.”

“Have you done something that would warrant such a violent reaction?”  
“I’ve pissed people off. I’ve fired people. I’ve put people out of office. It’s just the luck of the draw. Josh couldn’t have foreseen what happened. No one could.”

“Tell me about Toby?”

Sam turned at the question surprised by the change in subject. “Toby’s, well he’s just been, you know.” Sam couldn’t help but smile at the look on George’s face that made it very clear he didn’t know. “If you’d asked me a few months ago who I would turn to if I needed someone to help me through something like this Toby would have been the last person I’d have named but he’s been great. It’s like what I always thought it might be like to have an older brother.”

“Did you ever feel Josh was like a brother to you?”

Sam turned back to the window. George was very clever; there he was thinking the subject of Josh had been dropped. “Once, a couple of years ago, but he acted like a brother then. He looked out for me, took an interest in what I was doing, where I was headed. That all changed and it changed so gradually that I didn’t notice until one day I realised I hadn’t talked to him, really talked to him, for five months. Then things got bad at work and he was pissed at me. We stopped talking altogether then.”

“You said Josh told you that you were beaten up as revenge for what he had done.” George leaned forward in his chair, the leather creaked as his weight shifted. “Why did they choose you?”

“Josh hurt Gillmore. Gillmore’s friends went after Josh by hurting someone he’s close to.”

“But you’re not close to Josh anymore.” It was a simple observation but George knew that often the simple observations were the most insightful. He was right in this case too. He watched as Sam frowned at him and then shrugged. He turned to the window and pushed his hands in his pockets. After a few moments he turned back to George and perched on the windowsill. 

“When the man told me…when he said what he said…”

“When he told you to tell Josh, ‘This is for Gillmore’,” George clarified.

“Yes, when he said that, I was just desperate to make him see that I understood. I thought if he could see that I’d got the message, that I’d tell Josh, then he’d go. But after he’d stabbed me, after that, when I was lying there, I felt like laughing. I think I might have laughed actually. I remember thinking, you’ve got the wrong man, I think what Josh did was shitty as well. Tell Lyman!” Sam shook his head, “I don’t even talk to him anymore.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

That was lame, George, thought Sam, especially after the clever way you brought the conversation back to Josh. He answered the question though but with an equally lame answer. “Angry.”

George looked at him and started flipping back through his notes. “We talked a lot about your anger a couple of weeks ago. We could go over that again but I think this anger is very different.”

Sam returned to his seat wondering if George’s technique was to ask a probing question followed by a lame one to catch his patients off guard. “It’s bad enough I get the shit kicked out of me but then I find out it’s because of something Josh did. A few years ago that wouldn’t have been a problem because I pretty much supported most things Josh did. But now…”

“Do you think that what happened would be easier to deal with if you did support Josh and were talking to him?”

Sam sat back in his chair. “That’s a pretty stupid thing to think isn’t it?”

“No.” George waited.

“I suppose in a way it would have been easier to make sense of. Maybe it would have been easier because I wouldn’t have this other thing going on.”

George placed his notebook back on the table and cocked his head to the side. “Sam, I don’t think you’re being very fair to yourself. Coping with a serious physical assault is hard enough but you’re trying to cope with your anger towards your attackers, Josh, his guilt and the great of injustice of it all.”

Sam rubbed at his neck and then shook his head. “So you think I might need a few more sessions?”

George smiled and was struck again at how Sam had so clearly inherited his mother’s sense of humour. “Yeah, I think it might be worthwhile to meet a couple more times.” He stood and shook Sam’s hand as he told him to make an appointment at the desk outside. He watched as Sam picked up his coat and headed for the door. “Sam,” he waited until he turned back to face him, “Don’t hesitate to phone me if you need to speak before your next appointment.” 

Sam nodded, and a smile flitted across his face before he shut the door and headed for the desk outside. 

 

Toby looked up as the door to his house opened. He wasn’t usually home when Sam got back from his sessions with Dr Graves but he always knew when Sam had been to see him. Toby wondered if the sessions were doing him any good at all as Sam always kept to himself after he had seen Graves. He also always seemed to develop a migraine. Still, Sam wasn’t complaining so Toby assumed the sessions must be doing some good.

He watched Sam throw his coat over the sofa and rub at his neck before he coughed quietly and Sam looked up in his direction. “Toby! What are you doing here?”

“In my home, you’re asking why I’m here in my own home?”

“At this time of day I meant.”

Toby placed the papers he had been reading back into a file on his lap. “I just thought I’d work from home.” Toby had taken in Sam’s pale face and his eyes which were squinting against the light and decided the real reason could wait.

“Okay, well I’m going to-” Sam gestured towards his room.

“Yeah.” Toby watched as Sam walked quickly towards the sanctuary of the spare bedroom. “You need anything?”

“No. I’ll just lie down awhile, try to shift this headache.” He pulled the door open and then turned back. “Then you can tell me the real reason you’re home.”

Toby smiled at his inability to dupe Sam. He picked up the file again and settled back down to work. 

 

It was two hours later that Sam finally emerged. His attempt to shift the migraine had not been successful but he’d had enough of lying on his bed and his curiosity was getting the better of him anyway. He found Toby in the kitchen making tea and toasting bread.

Sam took a seat at the kitchen table and waited for the snack to be placed in front of him. He knew Toby wouldn’t want him to help so he didn’t offer, had given up offering a while ago. Toby was, to Sam’s great surprise, a superb cook who let no one else interfere with any aspect of food preparation, cooking or serving, all of which he enjoyed almost as much as Sam enjoyed eating whatever had been prepared, cooked and served.

“Did you cook for Andi?” Sam asked as he watched Toby drip honey onto the browned rolls. 

“I couldn’t cook back then. I taught myself when she left.” He picked up the two plates and walked over to the table, pulling a chair out with his foot before sitting opposite Sam.

The two men ate in a silence only occasionally broken by Toby relating pieces of news from work. Eventually the rolls were finished and two scrunched up napkins were placed on the empty plates as they stood with their cups and made their way to the living room. 

“So?” Sam asked before taking a long sip from his cup.

“Steven Morton is meeting with me…” Toby looked at his watch, “around about now.”

“Here?” 

Toby shook his head. 

“At the White House?” 

Toby nodded. 

“But you’re not there.”

“No, I’ve been called away.” Toby reached for his cup and rested it on the arm of the chair. 

“Inconvenient,” Sam stated.

“Very,” Toby agreed.

“What’s the deal with Morton?”

“He knows Gillmore, he knows Gillmore’s friends and most importantly he knows Mike Emerson.” 

Sam was about to take another sip but he placed the cup down on the table, tea forgotten with the mention of Emerson. Sam looked down at the spot of liquid that had landed on the table with the abrupt move but his mind was in Leo’s office, days before the attack.

“Why did you meet with Emerson last Thursday?”

Sam remembered confronting Josh and the look that had flashed across his face on hearing the question. 

“Because we both appreciate a good Thai meal and things were slow on the Hill.”  
Josh’s swaggering reply had done little to lessen Sam’s suspicions. 

“Emerson worked for Gillmore. He worked for him for three years. He fired him last March, no one knows why and Emerson hasn’t worked since, can’t get a job. Gillmore has made sure of that.”

“What exactly are you saying, Sam? Are you suggesting I employ Emerson for some temp work?”

“Did you do this?” 

Sam had known the answer before he’d asked the question. He’d known Josh was involved by the look on his face when he’d heard Emerson’s name. Sam sighed and dragged himself back to the present. Toby was staring at him, waiting for a reply. “You know for sure that Emerson was the one that got the story out about Gillmore’s wife?”

“Yes and don’t ask me how, I don’t know how, but CJ knows for sure.” 

“So you think Emerson’s going to be, what, so guilty that he’s going to find out who attacked me?” Sam’s voice was incredulous and Toby waited a few seconds before replying.

“I don’t think, I know. He came to us. He wanted revenge on Gillmore and he doesn’t feel bad about that but he doesn’t like what happened to you.”

Sam leant forward and rubbed at his forehead. The migraine that had never truly left was making itself known once more. “So I’m meant to believe, I’m sorry, I’m meant to believe that a man who would do what he did suddenly feels remorse for the consequences of his actions and voluntarily steps forward to help?”

“You know what, Sam, the thing about you is… Yeah, I think that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d believe.”

Sam slumped back in his chair in exasperation but then realised what Toby had meant and a trace of a smile crossed his face. He rubbed at his head again, nodded when he saw Toby was about to ask if he was okay, and gestured with a hand that Toby should continue. 

“The message that this White House is going to find those responsible for your attack has pretty much reached anyone who lives within a five mile radius of DC. Whoever’s responsible for leaking the reason for the attack and the resulting accusations must also be pretty much clear that we will seek him or her out and set the record straight.”

Toby picked up his cup and drained the last of the now lukewarm drink. “The thing with Emerson was CJ’s idea. It’s no secret he’s come to the White House to meet with me about funding for the DLT Core Plan. I stand him up, he gets to be furious and moan about the lack of understanding of the importance of the DLT at the White House, and we get to meet with him so he can spill all he knows about Gillmore and Emerson.”

“We need to keep an eye on CJ,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, I heard the FBI is interested in recruiting her.”

Sam leaned back against the leather sofa. He found a position that made the throbbing in his head slightly more bearable and closed his eyes. “So, when do we hear from Agent Cregg?”

“Should be a while yet. I suppose the longer it takes the better the chance that Emerson’s coming up with the goods.”

Sam nodded then slowly opened his eyes. “You’re going to a lot of trouble.”

“You don’t think you’re worth it?” 

Sam sent a puzzled look at Toby and was about to reply when Toby answered for him. “You are.” Toby lifted up his paper and waited for the phone to ring.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Voices…no, a voice. Toby’s voice. Toby’s raised voice. He’s pacing. If I open my eyes he’ll be pacing. He’s probably scratching at his forehead too. Rolling his eyes and gesturing.

Sam kept his eyes closed. He could hear Toby’s voice but was still too sleepy to make sense of his words. There were silences as Toby listened to the person on the other end of the line. By the time he started speaking again, Sam was more alert. 

“What else…okay, that’s good…that’s good too…we’ve got enough...It doesn’t matter what he thinks, do you think we’ve got enough?”

Toby stopped talking and started listening again. Sam opened his eyes and smiled on discovering he was right. Toby was pacing. Unaware that he was awake, Toby walked over to the armchair opposite Sam and perched on the arm. Sam closed his eyes again. “I told him…yeah, he was okay…he thinks we should be worried about CJ…no, he always knew Emerson was involved somehow, so...yeah, let me know if she hears back…he’s asleep…not that I know of…no, no, don’t do that, he’s not so good, he’s got a migraine…yeah, maybe later…okay, yeah, bye.”

Sam didn’t need to ask Toby who he was talking to. Judging from the last few comments it had been Josh on the other end. He opened his eyes again and wished he hadn’t. From what he’d heard and judging from Toby’s reaction to the phone call, Emerson must have been some help but Toby didn’t look that pleased at the news. He was still perched on the arm of the chair, the phone held loosely in his hands which rested between his knees. His head was bowed. He heard Sam move and looked over at him. He was standing now, all signs of his previous despondency had gone. “I just got off the phone to Josh. If there was any doubt that it was Emerson who was responsible for leaking the news about Gillmore’s wife then there’s none now.”

Sam shuffled upright and rubbed at his.

“He could care less though. He has no regret at all about doing it.”

“He must really hate Gillmore for what he did to him.”

“At least he didn’t wait two years?”

“Who waited two years?” Sam asked, confused by the non sequitur. 

Toby sighed and sat down on the chair opposite Sam. “Emerson leaked the news about Mrs Gillmore. He gave us the names of a few people who may be involved in your attack. But, he did know for sure who leaked the story about it being because of what Josh did.”

Sam waited for the announcement but Toby remained silent. “Who?” 

“Mark Brookline.” 

Sam’s mouth opened to reply but then closed again. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Mark Brookline?” Toby nodded. “Well I suppose I should have seen that one coming back to bite me on the ass.”

Toby stood slowly, rubbing absently at his protesting back. “He disappeared for a while after you fired him and Steve Joyce, but came back to DC about a year ago. He clearly hadn’t moved on though in terms of wanting his revenge on you.” 

Sam shook his head and stopped suddenly at the pain it caused. “So I suppose someone needs to talk to Brookline now. Whoever told him about the attack being revenge on Josh must know more than that, maybe even who planned the attack in the first place.”

“Oh I’ll talk to Brookline,” Toby said in a voice that held venom usually reserved for obstinate Republicans. “We’re going to get them, Sam, every single man or woman who’s involved in your attack or any aspect of the subsequent…” Toby waved his hand in the air looking for the word.

“Huge, diabolical, PR mess and damaging slurs on key staffers of the White House administration?”

“Yeah that.” Toby looked down at Sam. He didn’t look much rested for his sleep but seemed to have taken the news about Brookline remarkably well. “I’m going to have another drink, you want one?”

“No thanks.” Sam stood reaching out to hold onto the back of the sofa when the room span. “I’m going to go throw up.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom and hurried off.

Toby stared after him and then went to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee and Sam a glass of water. He returned to the living room just as Sam did. “Was that a stress thing or a migraine thing?”

“It’s hard to tell but I think probably a migraine thing. It’s going off now, always does when I puke.”

“Okay, well, that’s…good.”

They went back to the living room where Toby pinged through the channels until they found something to watch they agreed on.

 

“Hang on, wait, stop!” Josh held his hands up and turned away from Leo, CJ and Toby. “Let me just, okay, I’m just going to go over this again in case CJ hasn’t got it.” That earned him a slap on his leg as he passed her. “So, Mark Brookline, who Sam fired over a year ago for being mean to Ainsley-”

“I think there was a little more to it than that but yeah, go on,” Leo prompted, waiting for his star pupil to catch up with the rest of the class.

“Brookline is the one who somehow found out that the attack on Sam was payback for what I did but we don’t know where he got the information from?” Everyone nodded. “Emerson who definitely is the one who leaked the story about Gillmore’s wife, doesn’t know who arranged the attack but does know some names of people who may be involved?” another round of nods, “So we get Brookline to talk and we probably get some of the same names and then we’re in business?” Again, everyone nodded.

“The pellet with the poison's in the flagon with the dragon; the vessel with the pestle has the brew that is true.”

Toby looked at CJ quizzically. “Why’d you say that?”

“It just reminded me of that scene in The Court Jester, Josh all muddled and pacing up and down and trying to work out which is the pestle with the poison and which is the-”

“Okay, can we just stop now?” Leo asked.

“I thought Josh was a little like Danny Kaye there.”

“He was a little like him,” Toby agreed.

Leo dropped a book onto his desk and all three faces shot up to face him. “CJ, whilst I value your almost encyclopaedic knowledge of movies when we’re playing trivial pursuit, I really would like this meeting to get back on track.”

CJ nodded, shuffled upright in her seat and cast a look at Toby as if to imply it was his fault.

“Now, who’s going to talk to Brookline?”

“I am,” Toby replied before anyone else could answer.

Leo studied him for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I’ll get someone from-”

“No, Leo, I’m going to speak to Brookline.”

Leo sighed, removed his glasses and sat down. “I’m going to get someone who isn’t trying to solve the emotional and political fallout from the attack on Sam and doing his job as well as their own.”

“You think I’m too involved to be able to talk to Brookline objectively?”

“Yes!” Leo answered, his reply chorused by Josh and CJ.

Toby sat back and let a small chuff of laughter escape him. He shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Okay.”

 

The discussion moved on to Josh and the campaign that CJ had dubbed, ‘Josh Lyman- He’s really not that bad.’ Josh hated every minute of any discussion about the whole Gillmore fiasco and his role in it. He had never been so subservient. Everything Leo told him to do he did. Every meeting Leo told him to cancel, he cancelled and every Republican Leo told him to play nice with he played nice with. It was wearing him out. But, day by day, week by week, Leo had loosened his hold on Josh’s reins and now had decided that it was finally safe to let Josh start being Josh again.

“I want you to go the Hill and see if you can’t turn Rains around on this Healthcare thing.” Leo looked down at his papers again after informing Josh that he trusted him again. Despite the news though Josh didn’t grin, he didn’t even smirk. He was all too aware of the fallout of the attack that they were still dealing with. He simply thanked Leo, asked if there was anything else and then left the room. CJ followed him, keen to make him admit that her campaign had been a success. Toby remained. 

“He’s ready to do his job again,” Leo said of Josh and Toby nodded in agreement. “What about Sam?”

Toby walked closer to Leo’s desk. “He is. Physically he’s doing well. The cast comes off today and the stab wound is healing well.”

Leo couldn’t help but smile at Toby’s knowledge of Sam’s recovery. He hid it by looking down briefly then looked up to ask, “And mentally?”

“He’s seeing someone once a week. He talks to me about Gillmore but not other things.”

Leo didn’t need to ask what the other things were. He had a fair idea Sam wasn’t talking to anyone about Josh or the attack. “He’s still coming back to work on Monday, right?”

Toby said he was and was about to talk to Leo about the possibility of reduced hours if needed when Margaret appeared with a piece of paper that took Leo away and towards the office next to his. 

 

Toby headed for his office but then changed direction and went to CJ’s. Once there he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her work. Eventually she looked up and put down the newspaper. “How long have you been there, stalker boy?”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Toby’s face as he walked over to her sofa and sat down. He picked up a file beside him and turned it over then laid it back on the seat. He pulled at his tie and loosened it slightly before tightening it to its original state again. He pulled a cushion from behind him, placed it on his lap and then placed it beside the file. 

“Toby? Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“No, what makes you think that? I’m just checking in, making sure everything’s okay for the briefing.”

CJ nodded, “Ah ha, the briefing. I see.” She picked up a pile of papers from her desk and went to sit next to him. “Would you like me to read you my notes?”

Toby grabbed the papers from her and placed them on the floor. “No! I wouldn’t.” He rubbed at his head and sighed. CJ waited, her head cocked to the side and a quizzical look on her face. “I just wondered if you think, from what I’ve told you, from what you know…I just wondered if you think…” Toby let a small huff of frustrated laughter escape. “I just wondered if you thought I’m doing Sam more harm than good.”

CJ was taken totally by surprise. She had thought Toby had come to talk about Josh or Gillmore or his notes for her meeting later that day but not for one moment did she think he’d come to ask advice or seek assurance about the way he was helping Sam. “Toby! Why would you ask that? You’re doing Sam nothing but good. You’ve covered his workload. You’re dealing with the Gillmore thing. You’ve given him a place to stay while he gets over the attack-”

“Have I?”

“I think you’ve forgotten about the new bedding!”

Toby smiled but it was short-lived. “I’ve given him a place to stay but I don’t know I’m doing anything to help him with the other stuff.” He stood and CJ sat back and watched him wander over to the door, closing it firmly. “He talks to me about Gillmore and a little about Josh. He dealt with the news about Brookline better than I thought he would.”

“But?”

“But, he’s never talked about the attack, not in any detail. He goes to see this shrink and comes back with a migraine. He has these nightmares. He has them most nights but I don’t know…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if he wants me to keep going into him or pretend I can’t hear him or… I don’t know. I keep thinking what if I’m doing the wrong thing. What if I should be making him talk, or making him get some sleeping pills or…something.”

CJ stood up, walked over to her desk and started looking through a stack of files.

“What are you doing?” Toby asked.

“I’m looking for my How to Help Someone Who’s Recovering from Being Attacked manual. No, can’t see it. Oh wait a minute, there isn’t one!”

Toby shook his head and waved his finger at her. “Very clever, no manual, that’s good.” He waited until she returned to the sofa and turned to face her.

“If there was a manual, Toby, you’d be asked to contribute a fair chunk of it. I don’t know if you’re doing the right thing because there is no right thing. I do know that I think there’s no one at the moment that Sam would rather have with him. He’s talking to you. He’s letting you look after him. And, this is Sam we’re talking about, for God’s sake, since when was dealing with Sam an easy thing. But you know how to deal with him at work, you know how to deal with him as a friend and there’s no doubt at all that you know how to deal with him now. You’re following your instincts and it seems to have paid off so far.”

Toby shrugged. “Yeah, well, this big-brotherly thing doesn’t seem to be shifting so I suppose I’m stuck with it.”

CJ laughed and grabbed his hand. “You love it! Come here I’m going to give the big old Toby Teddy a hug!” She leaned forward and embraced him.

Outside, Carol raised her head at the sound of cooing noises and of protests coming from CJ’s office and then went back to her typing.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Toby pulled up outside his house and switched off the ignition. He felt better for his talk with CJ. He had decided he would try to broach the subject of the attack tonight and also set a date for Sam going back to his apartment. There was no real need for him to stay anymore. His wounds had healed, the cast had come off this morning and Sam was returning to work on Monday. He wondered if it was too soon and ignored the voice that told him the only reason he wanted Sam to stay was because he’d come to quite like having someone sharing his home.

He opened the door and walked straight to the kitchen where he deposited two bags of ingredients ready for the evening’s meal. He called Sam’s name and when he got no answer, headed for his room, stopping to listen to phone messages and check his mail on the way. 

Sam’s door was ajar but Toby could see the blinds were down and the room was in darkness. He called Sam’s name again and tapped quietly. Silence answered him so he pushed the door open a fraction more and peeked in. Sam was lying on the bed beneath the covers. Toby was about to leave him alone when a mumbled ‘Toby’ drifted from the curled up form. Toby stepped into the room. “You okay?” He heard a soft rustle of material. “Was that a shake or a nod?”

Sam’s reply was louder this time. He sat up and leaned over the bed retching loudly into a bowl. “Not too good then?” Toby said as he walked over to the bed. He switched on the bedside lamp so he could avoid the bowl but Sam’s groan made him realise at once what the problem was. “Shit, Sam, I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?” he asked as he hurriedly reached for the lamp, switching it off again.

“Yeah…threw back up though.”

“I didn’t think you had a session today.”

Another soft rustle of material floated up to Toby as Sam gently shook his head, “Didn’t…changed last minute…cast off this morning…then George.”

“How long have you been home?” Sam groaned and wrapped his arms more tightly around his waist. “Sorry, it’s alright, I’ll let you sleep and puke. Do you need anything?”

Not even the material sounded in reply this time so Toby leant down by the bed ready to repeat his question. “Oh, shit!” Instinctively he reached out and wiped away the tears that were streaming down Sam’s face. “Can you take some more pills?”

“No…too late. It’ll go…just need lie still…until…”

“Okay, okay.” Toby remained where he was and brushed the hair away that had fallen over Sam’s eyes. “Nothing I can do?” An almost imperceptible shake of his head was Sam’s reply. “I’m going to come back in an hour see how you’re doing and if it’s still this bad I’m going to phone your doctor.” The slightest nod told him Sam had understood. He’d never had a migraine this bad or for this long and phoning the doctor and getting some strong drugs to knock him out was becoming increasingly appealing. 

Having the cast taken off had been fine but being back in the hospital hadn’t done much to prepare Sam for going straight to a session with George who wanted Sam to ‘open up a little more’ about the attack. 

Sam pulled the covers higher and wrapped one arm around his head trying to rid himself of the fragments of the day that kept playing in his mind and the splintering pain that was like non he had experienced before.

 

In the kitchen, Toby was rummaging through the drawer trying to find something stronger than an Advil. There was nothing. He knew it was too late anyway. Andi used to tell him that if she didn’t take something straight away it was useless, especially for the sickness. He eyed the coffee machine and then the bottle of Bourbon standing next to it. A rush of cool air hit his face as he opened the fridge door and reached for the healthy option of a carton of fresh juice. A little of the drink splashed from the carton onto the counter and he grabbed at a tea towel to wipe it up. Glancing at the fridge again a smile flashed across his face as he remembered something else Andi used to say.

 

Leo rubbed at tired eyes and then squinted to refocus on the small font. He heard the soft footfall before looking up to see that Bartlet had walked into his office and sat silently down on a chair near his desk. “What you doing?” he asked and Leo knew he wasn’t going to get much more done for a while. He placed the papers down and walked over to join his friend. “So, Sam’s back on Monday.”

Leo nodded. “Toby says he’s ready.”

“And Josh?” Bartlet asked.

“And Josh, what?”

Bartlet sat forward. “I see things. I hear things. I pick things up in the…,” Bartlet waved his hand in the air in front of him, “ether.”

“Has CJ spoken to you again?”

“Yes,” Bartlet admitted. “She told me things were still a little-” Bartlet pulled a face to demonstrate the state of affairs between his Deputy Chief of Staff and Deputy Communications Director.

“Yeah, just a little.” Leo was suddenly reminded of something he had been meaning to talk to his friend about. “You know Roger Garret don’t you?”

Bartlet nodded. “I’ve known him for a long time. His wife Valerie and Abbey are pretty close.” A frown crossed his face, “Why?”

“Roger Garret is the President of Estree, Laurel and Baintree.”

“Ah.” Bartlet sat back and turned to face Leo. “I’m sorry I don’t see the link.”

Leo smiled and realising by his friend’s relaxed posture that the working day was done, relaxed back in his seat also. “Mark Brookline works at Estree, laurel and Baintree.”

“Ah,” Bartlet replied this time with full understanding. “So you’re going to talk to Brookline.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah, Toby wanted to but I told him someone else would and I decided that would be me.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’ll be quiet. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” There was a silence then, the sort of comfortable silence that only exists between friends. “CJ told me what Josh said to Sam.”

“He was upset. They both were. He’d just found out that the attack was because of what he’d done.”

Bartlet shrugged, “Still, some words whether they’re spoken in anger or not are hard to forget.” He paused while Charlie entered the room and handed him a slip of paper, nodded and then slipped it into his pocket. “Will they be okay?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had a few rough patches. We’re okay.”

A soft huff of laughter escaped Bartlet. “We’ve had more than rough patches, what about 1996?”

“Well, yeah, there was that whole year when we didn’t talk. That was your fault by the way.”

“See how I’m big enough to take that sort of comment now?”

It was Leo’s turn to laugh. “You weren’t quite so ready to hear them in ‘96!”

“I did listen though didn’t I, in the end. It’s what got me here.”

The two men looked at each other. Both smiled, and behind the smiles were years of friendship and many rough patches. Leo broke the silence. “They’ll get over it. Sam will forgive Josh. Josh will get over being guilty and somehow they’ll find a way to go back to being Josh and Sam.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing?”

“They’ll find a way through this because that’s what friends do. Any friendship that’s worth something has its 1996!”

Bartlet agreed and the two men decided talking in the Residence would be much more comfortable than Leo’s office so they walked slowly through the Oval office and out onto the portico reminiscing as they went.

 

 

A pair of black leather shoes and two slender ankles appeared in front of Toby but he continued with what he was doing. 

“Toby, what are you doing?” CJ asked as she bent down beside him. She had felt bad after their conversation earlier and had decided to call on him.

“I’m crashing ice cubes,” he answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sit outside your front door smashing a hammer onto a bunched up tea towel.

“Okay, does your hammer permit only allow outside use?”

“Sam’s got a migraine.”

CJ nodded. “So you thought vodka on the rocks might help?”

Toby smiled but CJ couldn’t see it as his head was still bent down. “Andi used to do this. She’d put crushed ice into a plastic bag, wrap it in a tea towel, sprinkle the towel with water put it in the freezer for a few minutes then put it on her forehead.”

“Do you think the fact that she did all that when she had a migraine with you just watching was why she left you?”

“It certainly couldn’t have helped.” Toby stood, happy with his efforts and held the door open for CJ. “He says it’s worse than he’s had before. I’m going to phone his doctor if it doesn’t go in a while.”

CJ frowned. Toby had lowered his voice so she did likewise. “Did he see the psychiatrist today?”

“Yeah, and he went to the hospital.” Toby carefully funnelled the crushed ice into a bag and wrapped it in the tea towel. “That was pretty much all he said between the bouts of projectile vomiting.”

“Ugh,” CJ pulled a face and then gestured to the spare room. “Is it okay if I go in?”

“Yeah, with any luck he’ll be asleep.”

 

The door to Sam’s room was ajar so CJ peeped in first. Sam was lying on his side, one hand covered his forehead and the other was cradling his face. He was lying above the covers now. CJ thought he was asleep until she gently perched on the bed and saw his eyes open slightly. “Hey, Samshine.” She knew Sam wouldn’t be up for talking or noise of any kind so she simply rubbed her hand soothingly up and down his arm and told him to close his eyes. He relaxed slightly at her touch. The sound of footsteps entering the room and coming to his side of the bed forced his eyes open. He wondered if it was his doctor, Toby had said he was going to call.

“This is a tea-towel,” Toby announced holding the homemade icepack in front of him. CJ sniggered at the bemused expression Sam was still able to muster with his eyes half open. “I er…Andi used to…when she…so I…” Toby had been okay looking after Sam when no one was watching, but now, with an audience he suddenly found himself feeling extremely self-conscious. Ignoring CJ, whom he knew would be trying not to laugh, he bent down and put the pack in Sam’s hand. Sam lowered it so he could look at it without having to open his eyes any further then he placed it on his forehead.

“Sam,” Toby reached down and took the pack off him, “you’re going to have to take your other hand off your forehead first.” 

Slowly Sam made sense of what Toby had said and lifted his hand away from his head before again taking the pack from Toby and placing it where his hand had been. A soft sigh filled the air as Sam immediately felt the cooling effect of the pack. 

CJ looked up at Toby who was staring down at Sam with a mixture of pride at the success of his plan and relief that Sam had gained some comfort from it. “I’m getting the urge to hug you again,” she told him.

“Stay away from me,” Toby replied as he left the room. CJ followed him and they settled down in front of the TV while they waited for Sam’s doctor to arrive. An Abbot and Costello film was on in the background and they chatted between watching snatches of it. Halfway through it the door buzzer went. 

CJ stood as Toby opened the door and let Dr Carrigy into the room and thanked him for coming.

“It’s no problem, Toby. Is he in the spare room?” 

CJ said hello to Dr Carrigy who had clearly been here before. It was clear Toby and the doctor knew each other well enough to use first names and she wondered how many other times the doctor had visited here. She stood in the doorway as Carrigy approached the bed.

“You’ve got yourself a bad one, huh, Sam?” Sam started to rise on hearing Frank Carrigy’s voice. “No, no, it’s okay. Tell you what; I’ll come down to you.” He knelt down beside the bed and waited for Sam to focus on him. “How long?” 

Sam answered but too quietly for CJ, or even Toby who stood by the bed, to hear. “Worse than usual?” CJ saw the slight nod that Sam gave in answer. “Okay.” Carrigy nodded and stood. He walked to the end of the bed where he had placed his bag and removed something from it. He went back to Sam and told him to open his eyes as wide as he could. When it was clear Sam wasn’t going to open them as wide as he would like he gently pulled the lid of Sam’s right eye upwards. He shone a small light into Sam’s eye but not for long enough to find anything out as Sam quickly pulled away from the cause of the worsening of his pain.

“I know it makes it worse Sam but I need to do this. Can you hold still for me for just a little while?” Sam turned his head back and allowed his lid to be pulled open again but as soon as the harsh light hit his eye he flinched away. Carrigy turned to Toby but he was already reading his mind. He leaned over the bed and gently held Sam’s head so he couldn’t move. Sam’s breathing turned into harsh gasps as the light was shone into both of his eyes and the pain flared to an even more unbearable level.

“Well done, Sam. Now, I’m going to give you something. Are you sure you haven’t taken anything?”

“No…don’t think…no threw it up…don’t…have I, Toby?”

Toby answered Sam but looked at Carrigy. “He took his meds before I was home but said he threw them up again. He hasn’t taken anything since and I haven’t given him anything. The doctor nodded and walked back to his bag. He pulled out a syringe and placed it into a small tube. CJ turned away as he wiped a pad over Sam’s upper arm and then tapped the side of the syringe. She turned back to find Toby looking at her with an expression that promised teasing of her squeamishness at a later date.  
Carrigy stood by the bed for a while and said a few quiet words to Sam before heading for the door. CJ let him and Toby pass and went to sit on the edge of Sam’s bed. She removed the icepack which was now slowly leaking water and then reached over for a blanket placed on a chair nearby and placed it over Sam.

“Frank said he’ll probably be knocked out for a few hours.” Toby took up CJ’s earlier position in the doorjamb. “Are you going to sit there and watch him?”

CJ didn’t answer, her gaze never left Sam’s face. She smiled an almost imperceptible smile and pulled the blanket further up. “You know, I’d never tell him this, but Sam has to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re just noticing?”

“I noticed before. I’m just, I mean, look at him. He’s like some sort of sleeping…”

“Beauty?” Toby offered.

“I’ve seen him asleep more times than I could mention but never like this. He seems so peaceful.”

“You appreciate he’s just had 50mg of Sumatriptan injected into him?”

CJ squeezed Sam’s shoulder and walked over to Toby. “That hugging thing I was telling you about, I’m not getting that so much anymore.” She walked past him and returned to her seat in the living room. Toby remained in the doorjamb mumbling about there being more important things than being beautiful and not being too sure that a man would want to be called beautiful anyway. 

“You’re beautiful too,” CJ said suddenly beside him again. “But with you it’s hidden, it’s all on the inside. Like a little teddy that has a tummy you squeeze to make it squeak. 

“If you are about to squeeze my tummy I’d seriously reconsider it.”

CJ’s hand hovered in midair before innocently patting Toby’s shirt collar down. “As cuddly as ever,” she whispered before walking away leaving Toby to stand watching Sam’s chest rise and fall before he too returned to the living room and the last ten minutes of the largely ignored Abbot and Costello film.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Sam pulled at his tie, realised it was too tight and loosened it again. He had slept the remnants of the migraine and most of the weekend and away and was now sitting on Toby’s sofa waiting for him to finish his coffee and drive them both to the White House for his first day back at work. 

“You should have eaten something,” Toby repeated for the third time.

“I’m fine.” Sam pulled at his tie again. “I’ll get something when we get there.”

Toby made a point of taking his time over the last of his drink, hoping the aroma of the filtered coffee would entice Sam to eat something. A loud rumbling sound filled the room and Sam grabbed at his stomach. “Ha!” Toby said victoriously.

“Toby, my stomach thinks it’s hungry but what it fails to acknowledge is the fact that if I eat something now it will likely be seen again not too long afterwards and as that event would take place in your car I’m sure you’d agree that on this occasion it would be best to ignore my stomach’s misguided protests and keep it in a state of emptiness.”

“You’ll throw up if you eat?”

“It’s almost a certainty.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that, not in my car anyway, not too keen on it in my bathroom.”

Sam sent a self-deprecatorily smile up at Toby and shrugged. “What can you do?”

Toby shook his head and took a final swig of his lukewarm coffee. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

 

Chuck Davies was getting quite a kick from being in the building he had so often stood in front of in his early days as a network reporter. He had his own show which consistently gained high ratings and which seemed to be the show that politicians and commentators wanted to be on. Chuck nodded to various White House staffers that he knew as he made his way down the corridor. He was directed to a chair and sat down. He was already trying out phrases to describe his visit even though he knew he had been sworn to secrecy and would never be able to share this experience with anyone.

He had not been waiting too long when a woman with long dark hair led him to a smaller office and then went into a larger adjoining one. She returned and led him inside.

Chuck’s secret enjoyment of being heralded along corridors and ushered into offices faded away when a slender hand pointed to a chair. “Take a load off, Chuck.” CJ shook his hand and walked back behind her desk.

 

Toby had left Sam alone when they had arrived, letting him settle back into work by himself. He had watched as Ginger, Donna, CJ, Leo and Charlie had all called in to see him. He knew Sam would have got little work done but decided to use that as a reason for his own visit. “How you getting on?”

“Okay, I think. I haven’t done any actual work if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I was, well, not just that. I was asking, I was just wondering…”

Sam couldn’t hide the smile that crept across his face. It seemed that now back in the West Wing, Toby was finding it hard to express his concern for Sam once more.

“I’m fine, Toby, really. Everyone has been very nice to me. I’ve got more pastries than I know what to do with and enough flowers for a wedding.” Sam turned to look at the collection of bouquets by his desk. “A pretty stylish wedding to,” he muttered noting the expensive blooms and wrappings. He turned back to Toby. “I’ll do some work now.”

“Yeah.” Toby remained by the door. “But if you feel, you know, just let me know.”

Sam nodded and waited until Toby had left the room before he let the smile return.

 

 

Chuck had watched as CJ took a call, pulling faces to show her displeasure at what was being said on the other end of the line. He was impressed when she quickly dismissed whoever was on the line, making her views clear and making it even clearer than any other views were unwelcome. She placed the receiver down and looked back at Chuck. “Mark Brookline will be appearing on your show tomorrow night.”

“He will?”

“Yes.”

Chuck who was used to being in control suddenly felt completely out of his depth. “And what am I meant to ask him?”

CJ handed him a piece of paper with a series of questions printed on it. 

“And I suppose you’ve told him what to answer?” Chuck said sarcastically.

“Well, not as precisely as we’ve told you but, yes, he knows what to say,” CJ said showing him another piece of paper. 

“Wow that’s…wow!” Chuck sat back in his seat and shook his head.

“Impressive aren’t I?” CJ smiled and then picked up her own copy of the questions. 

“Questions one to three are pretty basic; you can put anything topical in there. Question five is a scene setter. Make sure he gets both points in. Prompt him if he doesn’t make the link between where he works now and where he worked before. Let him wax lyrical about how great it was to work here-”

“Wasn’t he one of the guys Sam Seaborn fired?” Chuck interrupted.

“Yep, but that’s not common knowledge, Chuck, and you know that.”

Chuck smiled, “Okay, go on.”

“Question eight is the one that we’re all going to be watching out for.”

“Okay,” Chuck looked down at his sheet and read the question still clueless as to why it was so important. He asked CJ for more details and watched as she told Carol to hold her calls, leaned back in her chair and filled him in on exactly what was going on.

 

 

It was staring to get dark when Toby went into the office next to his and found Sam slumped back in his chair, glasses askew and a trail of paper leading from his lap to the floor. Afraid that wakening Sam suddenly would result in a scene at best and injury to himself at worse, Toby shut the door and walked over to Sam, coughing as he did so in the hope that would be enough to rouse him but Sam showed no signs of stirring. A gentle nudge to his arm wasn’t enough either. Toby glanced up at the window to make sure no one was looking and then knelt down beside the chair. He gently swung the chair around to face him and then took hold of both of Sam’s arms. He said his name whilst shaking him and finally Sam’s eyes opened.

“It’s on my desk.” Toby stood and raised his eyebrows waiting for Sam to talk sense. “Oh, I was…it was...” Sam cleared his throat, stretched and yawned. “I was just resting my eyes.” Toby eyebrows rose even higher. 

“You want to call it a day?” 

Sam looked like he was going to protest at the suggestion but then rubbed at his neck to ease the crick that had formed there and nodded. “Yeah.”

Toby went immediately to fetch his things including a large pile of work that he could continue at home.

“I can get a cab back if you’ve got things to do,” Sam offered as he followed Toby into his room. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I could get out of here,” Toby replied but Sam knew it was a lie. He knew Toby wouldn’t allow him to go home alone after his first day back. He didn’t know what Toby thought might happen if he did but then he didn’t know why he was so glad that he wouldn’t be going home alone either. Sam decided the change in routine must have unsettled him and left it at that.

They drove home in silence. Toby wanted to know if Sam had seen Josh but knew Sam was tired out and didn’t want to push him into a discussion about it. They ordered Chinese food and watched a game as they ate.

“He’s so overrated,” Sam said, pointing at the screen with his chopstick.

“$14 500 000 worth of overrated,” Toby agreed.

“You’d think with that sort of money he could find himself a decent hat.”

“$14 500 000, he’s yet to score a home run and you’re worried about the hat?”

Sam shrugged, “It’s the little things that can make all the difference in Major League, Toby.”

Toby was about to respond but was interrupted by knocking on the door. It was late for visitors and Toby had a sinking feeling he knew who it would be. He wasn’t wrong.

“Hey, I thought I’d just swing by. I didn’t get a chance to speak to Sam today so I was passing and thought I’d just call in.” Josh’s casual greeting was mocked by his expression which was oozing tension and a silent request that Toby let him in.

Toby glanced back at Sam who had sat up and turned the TV down, clearly aware of who was at the door and waiting for him to be shown in. He sighed and pulled the door open, gesturing for Josh to come inside. He knew Sam and Josh hadn’t seen each other for any length of time after their trip to the theatre and so had no idea how this meeting would go. He knew Sam was tired though and that didn’t bode well.

“Sam,” Josh nodded as he moved awkwardly into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

“Josh,” Sam replied as he watched him and then Toby sit. “Well, this is nice,” Sam deadpanned to his silent companions. 

“I wanted to come see you the other night but you had a migraine and Toby said…” Josh trailed off and looked at his feet. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by sooner. I know we’ve got things to discuss.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Sam replied easily but there was a sarcastic edge to his tone that made Toby wince for what may follow.

“It’s late, Josh, let’s just have a nightcap and maybe talk about whatever it is another time.” Toby was giving Josh an out. It was clear Sam was in no state to talk now and Toby hoped Josh would realise the inappropriateness of the time he had called.

“Why don’t we ask Sam if he thinks this is a good time?”

“Oh no, you’re not going to turn up here at stupid o’clock, demand to talk to Sam then blame me when I point out that perhaps this isn’t the best time!”

“Sam doesn’t need to go running to you to check if it’s okay every time he wants to talk to someone-”

“Believe me, Sam’s more than made his mind up about you by himself and he doesn’t need-”

“What doesn’t he need? It seems to me he doesn’t need whatever you tell him not to-”

Both men were standing now. Sam sat like a spectator at a tennis match watching insults being tossed from one side to the other.

“You fucked up, Josh. Not me, not Sam, you! And now everyone’s paying the price for it. Leo’s running around trying to convince the party you’re not a liability, CJ’s spending hours making sure the media are getting the story we want them to get and Sam, in case you’d forgotten, is trying to pull himself back together enough so he can return to work and start moving on. A task that’s not been made any easier by your base claim that he’s pretty much window dressing without you anyway!”

Sam stood. He looked at Toby who was breathing hard and staring at Josh. He turned to Josh who was standing, hands on hips, bright red and sending a venomous look at his verbal sparring partner. 

“Have you finished?” Sam shouted as he walked between them. “I mean, have you actually finished now or do you want to duke it out! I could move the coffee table if you like, give you plenty of room.” He spun away. “Jesus! It’s not hard enough, this isn’t hard enough, without you two acting like idiots!” He walked away from them leaving them staring at each other before turning around and returning to the spot between them. As he moved into their sight they both broke the stare and turned their attention to Sam. Toby breathed deeply and wiped at his forehead.

“Okay, okay, this is…I’m sorry this is no good, I-”

“No! No, Toby, this is perfect because this is exactly how you both feel and it’s about time someone admitted what was really going on in his head because I’m fucked if I know how to. I can go see and George, I can do my physio, I can swallow a handful of pills each night but none of it is doing any good because this is what’s really going on and no psychiatrist, therapy session or dosage of sleeping pills is going to help us work it out.” 

Sam was shaking. Josh noticed and wondered if Toby did. He glanced at him but Toby was staring at Sam an expression on his face that Josh couldn’t read although he was certain a part of it was regret.

“Toby was right. You fucked up, Josh. You went too far and you damaged people and there’s no need for me to feel too bad for you because I know you feel shittier about it than I could ever make you feel. You took the low road and you know it and you’re paying for it and we’re paying for it too.” Sam turned away from them again and this time Toby did catch Josh’s concerned eyes. He had no reply for him though. He was as helpless as Josh was to salvage the situation that they had caused. 

Sam’s hand ran shakily over his forehead and down the back of his head where it rested on his neck. “I’m so tired.” The words were so quiet that they almost drifted past Josh and Toby unheard. “I’m tired of hurting and being reminded of every punch and kick when I do. I’m tired of pretending to George that remembering the attack doesn’t scare me to death. I’m tired of being positive when the doctor tells me that next week I should have even more movement back in my arm. I’m tired of trying to stay awake because I know the nightmares will come. You’re in them, Josh,” he looked up at Josh for the first time and it took all of Josh’s self control not to look away, “usually centre stage, you’d probably be disappointed if you weren’t!” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck, I’m tired of saying things like that.” 

Silence followed. It was broken tentatively by Toby who took a step towards Sam and said his name. Josh moved forwards also, the fight forgotten in their common cause of trying to undo what they had done. “Sam.” Josh repeated but there was no reply to either of them. 

Suddenly, Sam moved away from them. His recent lethargy seemed to have vanished and he quickly stepped backwards and shook his head. “Sam, what? What do you want me to do? Josh, do you want to tell me I forgive you? Then I forgive you. Toby, I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me anymore you don’t have to feel responsible.” He stepped back again. “There, I’ve said it so…” He moved towards the front door, picked up his jacket and started to shrug it on.

“Where are you going?” Josh asked as he watched Sam opening the door.

“Sam!” Toby called hoping he would stop, think better of leaving and come back inside but the door closed firmly leaving Josh and Toby staring first at the latch chain which was swinging noisily from side to side and finally at each other. The chain stilled but they continued to stare, both on the verge of blaming the other for the turn of events, and both knowing it was perhaps, for a few moments, best to say nothing at all.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Toby moved first. He left Josh staring at the door and went over to the coffee table to get his keys and phone. He opened the closet door and pulled his coat off the hook. “I’ll go look for him. You stay here in case he comes back.”

“We should both stay here. Just let him cool off. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

Toby ignored Josh’s advice and continued to put on his coat. “Phone me if he turns up.”

“Just give him some space, Toby. He won’t appreciate it if you go chasing after him like he’s some runaway kid.”

Toby pulled the door open and then turned back to Josh. “Last time Sam went out by himself I had to go fetch him. He was too scared to walk past some damn alleyway and I had to go fetch him, so don’t tell me what I do or don’t need to do just stay here, wait for Sam, and call me if he comes back!” The door slammed shut and again Josh found himself staring at the swinging latch chain, trying not to think of how little use he was to his friends right now.

 

At first Sam wasn’t paying too much attention to where he was going but after a while he calmed down enough to realize he was lost. He walked on, stopping occasionally to look at street signs to help him find his way back. Not back to Toby’s though, he’d decided he definitely wasn’t going there. Maybe he’d head to work and sleep on Toby’s couch or maybe it was time to return to his place? He hadn’t been there for a while. He continued to walk. There was a flashing neon sign in the distance and the idea of not thinking for a while was suddenly appealing. Sam hurried his pace towards what he hoped was a bar.

 

Toby had tried everywhere he could think of, he’d phoned work and tried Sam’s cell and home phone but with no luck. He put his phone back in his pocket and started off for a second slow drive around the bars near his home. He had decided that was where Sam would be. It was certainly where he would head if he was in Sam’s place. He swung the car around and glanced at the clock. He’d been searching for two hours. He decided to drive round once more and then head home. 

 

Josh was watching a documentary about plane crashes and wondering if he would ever be able to go on Air force One again. He muted the TV and picked up his cell to try Sam again. There was no answer. He dialed again and this time waited for the voicemail message to finish. “Sam, I don’t know where you are buddy but you’ve got Toby driving around DC looking for you. I’m sorry I called tonight I guess I should have phoned first. Anyway if you get this message just give me a ring and let me know you’re okay.” He closed his phone and stared at the muted TV for a while before picking up his beer once more and reaching for the remote control.

Once more, Toby decided, I’ll drive round once more and then that will be it. He was back where he started and drove along the road to the first bar he had checked. Sam had been there the first time he had looked but had gone to the restroom when Toby had walked in. This time Sam was much easier to spot. He was sitting at the bar or rather leaning on top of it. A glass of bourbon in front of him.

Outside, Toby pulled his collar up against the rain that had started to fall and crossed the street. He stepped into the bar and scanned the people inside. He started to look at the people sitting at the bar and then did a double take as the man with dark hair leaning against its top stood up suddenly and spun towards him. Toby heard an enthusiastic call of his name before the man continued to spin around, stumbled into the bar stool and fell down to the floor. 

The bartender bent over the bar and looked down at Sam before looking up at Toby. “He a friend of yours?”

“Yes, he’s a friend of mine,” Toby answered before crouching down beside Sam.

“Toby!” The dazzling smile that greeted him was irresistible.

”You ready to go home?” he asked as he started to pull Sam upwards.

“I am…I’m ready…I’ve got my coat…no haven’t…” Sam realized his coat was not on him or on the floor next to him and started to pull at a coat resting on the barstool next to his.

“Sam! That’s not yours. Sam!” Toby’s shout alerted the man that the coat belonged to and he spun around and grabbed at it.

“Hey!” Sam replied equally indignantly, “Toby’s ready to go!” he explained as if that meant you could take anyone’s coat you liked.

Toby pulled the coat from Sam’s hands causing him to teeter then fall to the floor again. He handed the man his coat and apologized then watched as he stood and steered his girlfriend to a table away from the drunken man.

Sam had managed to pull himself back up and was now leaning on the bar again. “Stan, this is Toby. Toby, this is Stan.” Toby nodded at Stan and continued to search for Sam’s coat.

“Why don’t you sit down there, pal, while your friend gets your jacket?” Now that the couple had gone there was no one by the bar. Sam beckoned to him and Stan leant in close to hear the big secret Sam was about to share.

“Not totally sure I had a coat,” he confessed and Stan hid the smile that formed at Sam’s earnest tone.

“You did, man, don’t worry about it, Tony will find it.”

“Not Tony, Toby.” He turned and Stan reached out instinctively ready to grab him.   
“Hey, Toby, Stan said Tony. I said no…not Tony…Toby.”

“That’s great, Sam, because the worst thing that could happen right now is for someone not to remember my name,” Toby mumbled to himself. 

Sam turned back in another haphazard movement. “He’s a bit grumpy but like him when you get to know him…Toby…Toby…he’s been terrific…he’s not let me go…” Sam whirled a finger around his forehead and winked, “cos I could have…things been all mixed up and…you know, it’s been pretty out of control…but Toby’s been terrific…terrific Toby…Team Terrific Toby…” Sam sighed deeply then returned his gaze to Stan. “Toby bought me new bedding…well not Toby…Ginger…but how sweet is that!” He stared at the lights on the cash register for a moment before continuing. “And…and…it matches the-”

Stan never found out what the bedding matched as at that moment Toby found Sam’s coat and cried out that he’d got it. At the exact same moment Sam took another dive beneath the bar. It took Toby and Stan quite a few moments to get Sam upright again and in the direction of the exit. Stan went as far as the sidewalk and then went back to his bar leaving Toby to rest Sam against a lamppost while he went to fetch his car. He pulled up to find Sam slumped on the floor once more. 

Toby bent over and told Sam to stand up. The fact that Sam was making no effort at all to help was making what was left of Toby’s patience dissipate. 

“What's playing at the Roxy? I'll tell you what's playing at the Roxy. A picture about a Minnesota man falls so in love with a Mississippi girl that he sacrifices everything and moves all the way to Biloxi. That's what's playing at the Roxy.”

The fact that Sam decided now would be a good time to start singing made Toby forget his intention not to shout. “Will you shut up, stand up and get into the car!”

Sam stared at him with a total lack of understanding as to why he would be mad. “What's in the daily news? I'll tell you what's in the daily news. Story about a man bought his wife a small ruby with what otherwise would have been his union dues.   
That's what's in the daily news.”

“How the hell can you hardly stand or string a sentence together yet belt the lyrics to Guys and Dolls pitch and word perfect?”

Again Sam simply stared at him as if it was the most stupid thing he had ever heard. “What's happening all over? I'll tell you what's happening all over. Guy sitting home by a television set that used to be something of a rover. That's what's happening all over.”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening all over,” Toby said as he pulled Sam up by his lapels, “A guy’s getting into a car, stopping singing and not puking. That’s what’s happening all over!”

“I’m the guy,” Sam said nodding.

“Yes you are.” Toby guided Sam around to the passenger’s door and leant him against the car as he opened it. After struggling with the seatbelt and trying twice to shut the door without Sam’s arm in the way, he hurried to the other side and got in. Sam had stopped singing. He had stopped making any noise at all. Toby glanced at him as he drove along, already feeling guilty for shouting and wishing Sam would start singing again rather than continue the ominous silence he had lapsed into.

 

As they neared Toby’s house, Sam became even more withdrawn. Toby cut the engine and started to undo Sam’s seatbelt but a sudden hand on his arm stopped him. “I can do it!” Toby held his hands in the air and watched as Sam fumbled with the metal clasp. 

“Do you plan on doing it tonight?” Toby asked softly.

Sam glared at him, tried again and then sighed in annoyance as he gave up. “Don’t need you keep doing stuff for me, I’m more than…capa…cabab …can do it myself!”

Toby didn’t reply. The clasp finally released its stubborn hold on the belt and it slithered away in relief like a freed snake. He looked up at Sam who was rubbing fiercely at his face and muttering to himself.

“I preferred the happy drunk,” Toby told him as he opened the door and walked quickly to Sam’s side, keen to get him out of the car and inside, aware of how marketable a photo of a drunken Sam Seaborn would be at the moment.

 

Josh had switched off the TV when he heard the car pull into the drive. He tidied the cushions where he had been lying on the sofa and took his empty glass into the kitchen and peeked out of the window to see Toby helping Sam up the drive. He quickly went and opened the door and moved to grab Sam’s other arm.

“Fuck off, Josh!”

“We’ve moved on from the happy drunk,” Toby explained. Josh approached Sam again but he flinched away and Toby had to battle to keep them both upright. He glanced at the door to Sam’s room and then decided the sofa would be a safer option. Once he had deposited Sam onto it, Toby rubbed at his neck and rolled his shoulder a few times. 

“I’ll make some coffee,” Josh said and he moved quickly towards the kitchen.

Toby looked down at Sam and sighed. “You feel like you’re going to get sick?”

“Never puke,” Sam said with pride. “Josh pukes.”

Toby shook his head and followed Josh into the kitchen. Josh didn’t look up when Toby entered. “I should probably go.” The hotplate sizzled as water dripped down onto it from the jug. “He doesn’t want me here.”

“You’re just sensing that?” Toby regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Josh hung his head and blew out deeply.

“I just thought that if I could explain…”

“You picked a bad night.” Toby reached in front of Josh and removed the now full jug from the machine. “Stay and have a coffee. I’m betting he’ll fall asleep anytime now.” A loud crash from the living room stopped Josh from replying. Toby quickly went to investigate, Josh close behind him. 

Toby stopped dead in the doorway and Josh bundled into him, unable to see what it was that had caused Toby’s sudden halt.

“Don’t move, there’s glass all around you!” Toby called and then started again towards Sam who was sitting on the floor surrounded by broken glass, a decanter that was spilling its contents onto the floor, and an upturned table.

Toby and Josh looked down at Sam as he clumsily righted the decanter and put the stopper back on. “Think that will come out,” Sam said of the liquid that had soaked into the carpet. 

Toby knelt down beside him and started to clear some of the glass away. “Just stay put while I clear this.” Some of the broken glass was lying right beside Sam’s thighs and he wanted to move it before they attempted to move his unstable friend. He frowned as he realized a few pieces had already pierced their way through Sam’s pants although he seemed oblivious to it. “Okay, here we go,” he leant forward and held onto Sam. “On three, one, two, three…” Toby waited. “Sam, I really need you to move as well.”

Sam looked up in confusion, “Right.”

Josh knelt down by Sam’s other side and mirrored Toby’s position. 

Sam could hear Toby counting and at the same time he was suddenly aware of pain in his leg. He felt a warm stickiness where the pain was. It reminded him, that warm, sticky pain, took him back to a place he tried so hard not to revisit. It took him back so effectively that when he felt his arms being grabbed and his body lifted he immediately fought against it, kicked out, shouted, pushed the hands away and jerked away from the forces that were trying to lift him so he could be hoisted upright to receive more punches.

It all happened at once then. Toby shouted at Sam, Josh shouted at Toby, Toby lost his hold and Sam lashed out at both of them. He pushed away, his feet shuffling quickly to move his body backwards. His hands pushed down on the floor so he could lever himself away, the remnants of glass slashing the skin going unnoticed. 

“For God’s sake, Josh, let go of him!”

Josh let go and Sam slumped against the wall, the sound of his deep, frantic breaths fracturing the silence. Toby stepped backwards, glass crushed beneath his feet. “Just go, Josh.”

“I can’t just-”

“Yes. Yes, you can.” Toby’s stare was fixed on Sam. Slowly, Josh stepped away from him and walked over to the sofa where he had laid his coat. He put it on, his movements feeling sluggish and clumsy. 

“Okay, okay,” Toby knelt down again. “It’s just me, Sam. It’s Toby. I’m just going to sit here until you feel better, okay?”

Josh looked around for his keys.

“Don’t worry, everything’s okay, just take some deep breaths. You’re okay.”

The keys were in the kitchen, by the coffee machine. Josh picked them up and walked towards the front door.

“That’s right, nice and slow, you’re doing good.”

He opened the door and paused.

“Just like last time, nice and slow, that’s it. Let me know when you’re ready, I’m just sitting here, no rush, nice and slow.”

Josh stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. When he was sure his legs were steady he started his way slowly down the drive.


	21. Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-one 

CJ put down her pen and turned her attention to the television as Mark Brookline was announced as the next guest. She returned to her work keeping an ear out for the questions she knew were coming. 

It had been a strange day. Toby, Josh and Sam had all kept themselves tucked away in their offices and during the staff meeting the atmosphere had been horrendous. She’d heard the rumours that Sam had his hand bandaged and like everyone else, tried not to think of the images from a couple of Christmases ago that it conjured up. She made a mental note to catch Toby before he left and turned back to the TV when she heard the interviewer ask the first of three staged questions.

“So, Mark, things are a little difficult at the White House at the moment. Will it be business as usual?”

“Oh for sure. You know what, one thing I learnt working there was that when something like this happens everybody pulls together and works towards the solution. There’s no way it’s every man for himself there.”

“Now that’s an interesting comment, Mark, because I know you’ve worked with both Sam Seaborn and Josh Lyman. Do you get a sense of how they’ll be coping with the alleged accusations that Lyman was to blame for the attack on Seaborn? I know there’re some who say the answer is- not very well.”

“Listen, I know these guys and it would take more than a few DC rumours to come between them. They’re professionals but they’ve also been through a lot together. President Bartlet has a pretty strong team and from what I’ve experienced of it they’ll be working together now and supporting each other.” 

“And did you value this experience before or after Sam Seaborn fired your ass, Mark?” CJ said mimicking the interviewer as she reached for her cup of coffee.

“Have you been in touch with Seaborn or Lyman recently?”

CJ spoke along with mark’s carefully planned answer.

“No, but a friend of mine who works at the White House told me it’s business as usual. The rumours surrounding the whole Gillmore incident and Lyman’s and Seaborn’s role in it are just that, rumours.”

“Good boy,” CJ muttered as she leant forward and reached for the phone. She sipped at her coffee while waiting for Toby to answer and grimaced as she took a swig of the cold liquid. “It’s CJ. Did you see it?”

“I saw it.”

“Well?”

Toby put the phone on speaker and walked over to the window between his office and Sam’s. “It was good.”

“It was.” There was a pause, CJ knew something had happened last night and she also knew it was that something that had Toby so distracted now. “What are you doing?”

“Doing? I’m standing in my office talking to you!”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.” Another pause, Toby sighed. “I’m standing here watching Sam who hasn’t done anything but sit at his desk and stare at it since he got here.”

“Because of what happened last night?” CJ hedged.

“Yeah, he hasn’t said much since- Wait a minute, how do you know what happened last night?”

“I don’t. I’ll be right over.”

 

Toby returned to the window and looked at Sam who hadn’t moved. Suddenly Sam jumped out of his seat and Toby rushed back to his desk. He made it to his seat just as Sam appeared in the doorway. “I’m going to go see George.”

“Okay,” Toby answered simply although secretly relieved that Sam was aware that he needed help to sort out his jumbled emotions from the night before. He avoided looking at the crude bandage he had wrapped around Sam’s hand. “I’ll see you later?” Toby asked as if he was simply nipping out to a meeting on the Hill. Sam nodded and then turned quickly to return to his office and grab his coat.

His exit was followed by CJ’s entrance. “Okay, Tobus, what’s got you, Sam and Josh holed up in your offices and why is Sam sitting staring into space?” She glanced through the window to Sam’s office. “Okay, maybe that should be why isn’t Sam sitting staring into space?”

“Nothing, I don’t know and he’s gone out.”

CJ frowned and circled Toby’s desk. “Well now, Mr Coy Boy, something, you do know and where has he gone?” 

Toby sat down wearily and rubbed at his forehead. CJ’s demeanour changed to one of seriousness and she sat on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, well, no more than usual.” Toby sighed and sat up straighter. “Sam went a little nuts last night. He stormed out on me and Josh, whose late arrival at my place really didn’t help-”

“He decided it was time to talk?”

“He did,” Toby nodded. “I said some things, Josh said some things, Sam said quite a few things then stormed out and got smashed. He returned, he slipped or staggered or whatever it is Sam does when he’s even less steady than usual, I went to help him up, Josh insisted on helping, Sam freaked.”

“Freaked? This is the man who spent a morning hiding in the men’s room when he thought I was going to introduce him to Karen Cahill, his freaking quota is already quite high.”

Toby smiled fleetingly. “I mean he freaked. I don’t know where he was but he wasn’t with us.” Toby stood up, stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered over to the window to stare at Sam’s empty office. “He had me pretty scared for a while. Even when I was dressing his cuts he-”

“His cuts?”

Toby turned slightly to CJ, “He cut his hand on some glass,” he explained, “even then it was like he wasn’t there. He kept looking at me like he didn’t know who I was or where he was. I ended up shouting at him. Like he needs that! I shouted at him and shook him.” 

“Okay, so my suspicions that something happened last night were pretty much spot on.” CJ took a deep breath and then stood up. She walked over to Toby and waited until he turned and looked at her. She cocked her head and held her arms out in invitation. To her surprise Toby accepted the offer and leant forward for a brief, but she hoped, comforting hug. “It’ll get better. Sam will get better. You need to let me help though. This isn’t your responsibility. I can do things.” Toby squeezed her and pulled back. “But I should point out that clearing up broken glass and blood isn’t one of those things.”

“Come over to my place tonight, I’ll cook.” She walked to the door and then turned back. “I won’t cook, I don’t know why I said that, but I’ll order a good take-out.”

“Okay,” Toby replied. He watched CJ walk away through the Bullpen. “Okay,” he said again to his empty office.

 

 

“You didn’t think it was Josh.” 

“I did! I knew it was Josh. Why are you so fixated on that?”

“Because when you told me what happened when you were on the floor on Toby’s living room, Sam, you said a man grabbed you, you didn’t say Josh. Now go back to last night. You were on the floor, you were bleeding and then what happened?”

“I told you. I told you what happened. Toby helped me up and Josh helped and I didn’t want him to so I told him to go.” Sam was standing by George’s desk. He had been pacing the room ever since he started to tell George what had happened the night before. He knew he needed George to help him, knew he needed to tell him what had happened but now that he was here he found he couldn’t admit it. He wanted George to tell him he was okay but the more he remembered what had happened the more convinced he became that was the last thing George would say.

“Why did you come here, Sam?”

“Because you said if I ever needed-”

“Why today? We were due to meet tomorrow, why come today?”

Sam frowned. “I told you,” he repeated as if George was purposefully being obtuse. “I had a panic attack last night and you said if I ever needed to talk to you about something I could-”

“Panic attacks don’t make you mistake a friend for an attacker. Panic attacks don’t make you think you’re sitting in an alleyway bleeding when you’re on your friend’s living room floor.” George sat forward and made sure Sam was looking at him before continuing. “What you described to me wasn’t a panic attack. You were reliving the attack and I think that’s the first time that has happened and I think you’re scared that it will happen again and you want me to tell you how to make sure it doesn’t but without actually telling me anything at all.”

“It was a panic attack,” Sam insisted but when George didn’t reply he walked over to the chair opposite him and sat down. George leant back, crossed his legs, laid his pad and pencil on the table beside him and waited. 

“It was so real.”

George nodded and Sam had a sudden urge to place his hand on his head to stop the movement. He laughed, a sudden nervous sound, at the absurdness of the thought. 

“I remember Josh and Toby were talking in the kitchen. I was drunk. I wanted to get drunker. I went over to where Toby keeps his drink and I…I don’t know, I suppose I stumbled or tripped or something because the next thing I knew I was on the floor and there was glass on the floor too.”

“And then...”

“And then I wasn’t on the floor anymore, I was in the alley. I was in the alley and I was bleeding and-”

“You were scared. You were scared, Sam. You thought you were going to die. You were bleeding and scared.”

“Yes,” Sam whispered. “I couldn’t stop it.”

“You can’t, but if it happens again we can make it easier to deal with.”

“Can we?” Sam asked and George smiled at the eagerness of his tone.

“Yes, we can. But you need to start telling me everything. It’s going to get worse before it gets better but it’s nothing you won’t be able to deal with. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Sam answered and there was a determination in his tone that convinced George that he was finally ready to start facing what had happened to him.

 

 

Josh peeked into the Bullpen and, once he was sure the coast was clear, made his way to Toby’s office. He walked in and went straight over to the couch but didn’t sit down. “How is he?”

“Who?” Toby answered.

“Oh come on, Toby!”

“He’s fine. He’s just gone out for a while but I suspect you knew that or you wouldn’t be here.”

Josh’s hands flew to his hips and he walked nearer to the desk. “What do you want me to do? I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve accepted the blame. I’m trying to make it up to Sam. I can’t go around grovelling forever!”

“Oh I think you can, Josh.”

Josh shook his head, “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it then fine, but I’m not going to feel bad about this anymore.”

Toby watched as Josh stormed towards the door. “You are,” he said to the retreating form.

 

Toby worked undisturbed for the next hour. Ginger and Bonnie were relieved they had no reason to interrupt him as it was clear from the bangs and exclamations coming from his office that entering it could be a dangerous thing to do. Ginger forgot the possible peril though as she scribbled down a name and walked quickly towards Toby desk. “A call just came in for Sam from a-”

“Sam’s not here. I’m not his secretary.”

“It’s from a Detective Adams, Toby. He said they’ve arrested someone for assault and they think he might be one of Sam’s attackers.”

Toby looked up sharply at Ginger and grabbed the piece of paper she held out to him. He looked deep in thought for a few moments then stood up decisively. “Tell Leo what the message said and that I’m going to pick Sam up and take him to the station.” He picked up his coat and started out of the office before stopping and turning back. “Just Leo, don’t tell anyone else.” 

Ginger nodded. “Tell Sam we’re thinking of him,” she called out and her words stopped Toby and caused him to turn back. He nodded and then hurried on his way.

Sam took a deep breath on leaving George’s building. He tugged at the knot of his already loosened tie and shoved it into his pocket. Five steps below him people hurried up and down the sidewalk. He took another deep breath and reluctantly stepped down to join them.

“Sam!”

Sam looked around at the call of his name and then smiled on seeing Toby. He walked towards him with a half smile, half frown on his face. “What are you doing here?”

The police called. They want you to come down to the precinct. They think they’ve got one of them.”

A look of fear flashed across Sam’s face. Toby didn’t miss it. He waited by his car as Sam digested what he’d told him and then held the passenger door open as Sam reluctantly got in.


	22. Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

Sam only spoke to ask if Toby knew which precinct he was going to. 

“You’re sure it’s the 7th?”

Toby kept his eyes on the road and replied more calmly than he normally would if Sam asked the same question three times. “Ginger took the message and she’s pretty good at that so yes, I’m sure it’s the 7th.”

“Only there was an officer from the 9th precinct who talked to me the other day about-”

“Sam!”

Sam turned an indignant face towards Toby but couldn’t hold the stare and looked away sheepishly. He remained looking out of the window for the rest of the ride. He felt the car stop and realised the ground he had been staring at had stopped moving also. He winced as he automatically reached for the seatbelt with his bandaged hand but brushed Toby’s hand away as he tried to help. 

Toby stayed silent, knowing Sam was on edge. He didn’t know how the session with George had gone but was pretty sure it hadn’t been designed to prepare Sam for seeing one of his attackers.

They walked into the station, pausing for a couple of officers to walk through the solid wooden doors. Sam walked straight over to the desk, clearly keen to get whatever he had to do done and out get again as quickly as possible. The desk towered above Sam making him look even more vulnerable than Toby imagined he felt. He took a step closer to Sam and waited for the desk sergeant to phone the detective Sam had asked for.

A few moments later they were led upstairs. Sam was spoken to by two detectives who told him what would happen. They explained the man had been picked up after a bar brawl in which another man was stabbed. One of the police officers had remembered the description of the man who attacked Sam. It wasn’t Benson, the name Sam’s other attacker had given them, but then everyone had more or less given up on that lead.

“So, Sam, are you ready?”

Sam nodded, although Toby didn’t think he looked very ready. Since the time he had picked him up outside George’s office only twenty minutes had passed and Toby doubted Sam had even begun to prepare himself for seeing his attacker again.

 

They were led into a small room where another detective and a lawyer were waiting. Sam was shown to a seat and he sat down on the soft chair. A fleeting memory of a small, dark movie house where he spent many afternoons as a child crossed his mind but the pleasant memory dissipated when the door in the adjoining room was opened and a line of men filed in. The light was dimmed and Sam was reminded once again that the men couldn’t see through the glass. He took a quick breath, too quiet for anyone but Toby who was standing behind him to hear. 

The men were told to face the front. Sam glanced at Toby who was staring straight ahead, a look of anger on his face that frightened Sam more than the thought of turning to face his attacker. But, slowly, he did. He turned to the man at the end of the line and followed along waiting for the face that he hoped he wouldn’t remember or even recognise if he saw it. It wasn’t the face that Sam was going to remember though. 

The men were told to face the right and as one they turned. Again they faced the front and then the left. “Do you recognise any of them?” the detective asked frustrated at Sam’s silence. He shook his head and looked again at the men before him.

“Number one, please step forward.”

The man stepped up to a line marked before him and waited.

“Please say, ‘make a sound, you’re dead’.”

Sam hadn’t been expecting that. He vaguely remembered one of the detectives saying something about voice identification but he hadn’t prepared himself to hear those words again. He realised everyone was looking at him. He shook his head and tried to look composed.

“Number two, please step forward.” And so it continued. Sam listened to the men say the words that he had almost successfully managed to block from his memory. He felt a pain in his palm and realised he was clenching his fist. He thought of the breathing exercises George had taught him and focused once more on the scene through the glass. “Number four,” Sam looked down at his clasped hands. He hadn’t seen his attackers so he thought that not looking when hearing the voices may prompt his memory. Number four spoke the words loud and clear as asked. Sam’s head shot up and suddenly, breathing exercises forgotten, his heart was hammering and his mouth was dry.

“I think,” Sam sat up straighter and looked at the man who he only knew as number four. “Ask him to say it again.”

Number four was asked to step forward again and this time Sam looked straight at him. He didn’t recognise him, not really, but he recognised the voice. Despite his best efforts it was ingrained in his mind. He couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him. He was shaking so hard he was sure Toby would be able to feel it. 

“Can you identify the number for me?” The detective was keen to make the identification as sound as possible. Finding it hard not to betray his elation that Sam had picked the right man, he asked Sam the question again. 

“Sam.” Toby gently nudged Sam’s arm. “Detective Harris wants you to say the number of the man.”

“Oh,” Sam clenched his fists even tighter, desperate now to get out of the room. “It’s four, number four.”

The events that followed were blurred for Sam. He went to another room, signed some papers, spoke to a detective and then found himself following Toby back to the car. 

 

When they entered Toby’s house Sam went straight to his room and emerged a few moments later dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt and sneakers. “I’m going for a run,” he announced as he came back into the living room. He sat on the sofa and bent down to finish tying his laces. “What?”

“No, nothing. No migraine?” Sam shook his head. Toby put his hands in his pockets and bit at his lip. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? You’re doing what?”

“I, erm, wouldn’t mind a run too so I’m coming with you.”

Sam looked at him in exasperation. “You’re going for a run,” he said making the idea sound as ludicrous as it was.

“Yes.” Toby turned towards his bedroom to get changed. Sam slumped back on the sofa ignoring the urge to just get up and leave. “Face it, Sam, if I don’t come with you I’ll only end up having to come get you from a bar, alleyway or cinema lobby.”

“Thanks!” 

A few moments later Toby appeared in sweat pants wrinkled from being stored away for obviously quite a while. Sam raised his eyebrows. “You sure you’re up to this? I don’t need any more traumas like having to resuscitate you in the middle of the park, which I wouldn’t by the way, just so you know.” Sam stood and Toby followed him to the door.

“Why wouldn’t you resuscitate me?” Toby asked as he shut the door behind them. “Sam, why wouldn’t you resuscitate me?” He asked again but Sam was already jogging away.

Toby managed to keep up with Sam as they made their way towards the park. He tried to ask again why Sam wouldn’t resuscitate him but he found jogging and talking was beyond him. Sam stared ahead and smiled. Jogging and talking was effortless to him. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t put you into the recovery position.” Sam’s feet beat a neat rhythm as he pounded along the entranceway to the park. “It’s just that you’ve got a beard.”

Toby was trying hard to concentrate on what Sam was saying and remain upright. “Wh…what’s my…beard got to do…with …it?”

Sam veered out of the way of another jogging couple smoothly and rejoined Toby. “I’d get help. I don’t want you to think I’d just stand there and watch you gasp for air but I just don’t think me giving you the kiss of life when there’s beard growth involved is going to happen. ” He turned to Toby and shrugged, “Don’t take it personally. I’d summon the emergency services for you as I would any bearded victim.”

Toby mumbled a ‘thanks’ and out of the corner of his eye spotted a bench further along the path. ‘I can make it to the bench, I can make it to the bench,’ became his litany as he focused on the goal ahead and not Sam’s weird beard phobia. Once near it he slowed and then collapsed onto it. Sam jogged on the spot. “What are you doing?”

“I’m avoiding you being guilty over not resuscitating me for the rest of your life!” Toby answered, red faced and hardly able to keep from the temptation of lying flat out on the lifesaving seat.

Sam nodded. “I appreciate that.” He sprinted off then, away from the path and over the grass to where the path circled around again. Toby watched as he jogged and then burst into a sprint, slowed down, jogged and then sprinted again. He wondered if after the initial shock of seeing and hearing his attacker again, Sam actually felt better for it. Maybe this was the beginning of the end and Sam would finally be able to put what had happened behind him.

 

Toby watched as Sam set off at a sprint again and then went out of sight. He rested his head against the back of the bench and sighed. The aroma of coffee tempted him but he was sure that if he stood at the moment he would collapse and ‘White House Communications Director- America’s Most Unfit Man’ was not a headline he cared to see. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds; always there but mostly unheard by him. If anyone had been passing and really paying attention they may have just seen a smile cross his face.

 

The sound of running shoes pounding along the path caused him to open his eyes and sit up. As he suspected, Sam was nearing the bench. Toby stood and waited until the ridiculously fit, in his opinion, younger man arrived. He realised his assessment of Sam’s health may have been wrong though as he watched Sam stop beside him and then bend forward, his hands locked on his knees and his head bowed. Deep, gasping breaths emanated from Sam whose face was red and T-shirt dark with the stain of perspiration. Toby was reminded by the sight that it had only been a few weeks ago that Sam was lying in a hospital bed and he cursed himself for allowing Sam’s denial to rub off on him. “You’ve overdone it! You can’t just go for a gentle run you have to go and overdo it!” Sam’s harsh breaths were his only reply. “How am I meant to take care of you if you can’t take care of yourself!” 

Sam lifted his head. He didn’t need to speak, his expression was unmistakable; he wanted to know how Toby could take care of him too.

Toby huffed out a breath and rubbed at his forehead. He looked up at the tree beside the bench and silently said goodbye to the birds that had given him a few moments solace. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get home.” He pulled Sam upright and led him back along the path. “You don’t look good. You better pray I don’t have a thing about resuscitating men with no beards!”

Sam raised his eyebrows, a line equal to Toby’s would normally have sprung from his lips but, like Toby earlier, he knew that breathing and walking was about all he could manage at the moment.


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-three

“I took him for a run and put him to bed.” Toby juggled the phone and a plate of potato chips as he updated CJ. “I know Sam’s not a dog. No, I don’t think you needed to be there when I put him to bed!” His tone was one of exasperation but he smiled as he settled onto the couch and brought a chip to his mouth. “Chips, I haven’t eaten since- No, I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m just telling you I haven’t eaten for a while.” Toby crunched on a chip as he settled into his chair. “Tired, he went for a run and I went with him.” Toby crunched on another chip and waited for CJ’s hysterical laughter to come to an end. “I don’t see that the image of me going for a run merits that reaction but I agree that it’s not a likely pastime for me to pursue.” Toby tipped the remains of his snack into his mouth. “CJ, there’s really not much point in me staying on the line just to listen to your maniacal laughter.” After waiting for CJ to stop laughing and assuring her again that Sam was fine and there had been no reporters outside of the police station, he hung up. 

Toby sighed, threw the chip wrapper in the trash and headed for his bedroom. He stopped outside Sam’s room when he saw a faint light spilling beneath the door. A rapid tapping sound could be heard and Toby knocked lightly on the door. At Sam’s call to come in he pushed the door open and walked into the room. Sam was sitting up in bed typing furiously on his laptop.

“What you doing?” Toby asked as he walked closer to the bed.

“Writing.”

“Yes, I know you’re writing. What are you writing?” He walked over to the window. “You want these closed?” he asked of the curtains that framed the starless, black, DC night.

Sam didn’t look up. “Let me just, hold on…” He finished what he was writing and then placed the laptop to the side. “Yeah, please.”

Toby nodded and pulled the drapes together. “What are you typing?”

Sam waved a hand dismissively at the screen. “Just something for George, it’s nothing really, just something he told me to do.”

Toby was intrigued and walked closer to the bed. “What? Tell me, I’m interested.” And, to prove the point, Toby perched on the end of Sam’s bed and waited for him to explain.

“It’s a nightmare journal, I suppose. He told me to write down my nightmares as soon as I wake up.”

“You just had one?”

“Yeah, and why George thinks he’s going to have any great breakthrough from reading what they’re about is beyond me. Let’s see, Sam, from the dreams you’re having I’d say you still feel a little bit upset about the fact that Josh nearly beat the living crap out of you!”

“Josh?”

“I’m sorry?”

Toby leaned forward and frowned. “You said Josh nearly beat the living crap out of you.”

Sam sat up, subconsciously trying to move further away from Toby. “No I didn’t. I said someone tried to beat the-”

“I think George might consider that something of a breakthrough.”

Sam stared at Toby. “I didn’t say Josh.”

Toby shrugged, “Okay, fine.” He stood again. “You want to tell me what your dream was about?”

“No!”

Toby pulled at the curtains to close the small gap that remained between them. “Was it about the identification?”

“Toby!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go, leave you to your journal. Make sure you don’t type Josh in there by mistake.” He walked towards the door but stopped at Sam’s sudden, quiet words. 

“It was about you.”

Toby didn’t turn around. He stood by the door and waited for Sam to continue. “We were on a train. I don’t know where we were going. I wanted to get off but you kept telling me we weren’t there yet. You bought me a piece of pie.”

“That was nice of me,” Toby said walking nearer to the bed.

“Yes. I didn’t eat it though because it turned out not to be real.” Sam shrugged, “These things happen in dreams.”

“They do,” Toby agreed sitting down at the end of the bed.

“Anyway, the train started shaking and you said we were going off the tracks, as if that was something that happened everyday. I looked out of the window and there was nothing below but sky. You kept telling me that we were nearly there but I didn’t know where there was. Then the train stopped moving.”

Toby grimaced, “It was one of those sudden stop, then hurtling down to the ground dreams, wasn’t it.”

“Yep, we went hurtling for quite some way. You didn’t seem too bothered by the way. I think you might be a useful person to have around in a freak train incident.” Sam absently untangled the wire from his laptop and continued. “We carried on hurtling and then stopped again. You turned to me and said, ‘We’re there now, Sam,’ and we carried on downwards for a few seconds then bang!” 

“Bang?”

“Bang. We crashed into the ground, or I assume we did, that’s when I woke up.”

“Did I die?”

“Yes.”

“Did I get to eat any pie before I died?”

“I’d imagine so. Your piece of pie wasn’t fake.”

“Good. That’s how I’d like to go.”

“You’d like a nice piece of pie before you die?”

“Well, I can think of other things I’d like but if that was my option I’d take it.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully then looked up at Toby, head cocked to one side. “I think George is going to think I have a pie fetish and a fear of train wrecks.” He sat upright, “Hey! I’m the train wreck!”

Toby nodded as if this wasn’t news to him.

“I’m the train wreck and you’re the…the…conductor! The pie is…what’s the pie?”

“Did you go to bed hungry?”

“I’m going to write this down. I’m going to write it down and then I’m going to tell George what my dream meant.”

Toby turned the laptop towards him. “I’ll type, you interpret.”

“Okay, good. Now Freud would have us believe that all dreams are simply wish-fulfilment and although he abandoned his theory about the sexual root of dreams during his later years he never-”

“Sam! Just tell me your dream in your own words and as much detail as you can. And I’m warning you, if you start putting my pie into a sexual context you’ll wish you were back on that train!”

Sam looked suitably admonished and started to recount his dream to Toby in vivid detail. Toby typed exactly what Sam said and then tapped the period key with a flourish when he had finished. “Now we need to, you know, look at what this might mean in terms of recent events and then you won’t need to have anymore nightmares because you’ll have cracked it!”

Sam frowned. “I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that but let’s have a go anyway.”

 

Two hours passed. Empty beer bottles and pretzel wrappers littered the bed. A host of interpretations had been discussed. Toby and Sam had started earnestly enough but after the third beers had been drunk they had veered away from making any serious attempt at discussing the meaning of Sam’s nightmares.

“It could be politics,” Toby suggested as he took a sip from his bottle. Catching Sam’s nonplussed expression he continued, “The pie, the pie could be politics.”

Sam placed his hands behind his head and crossed his feet. He was lying flat out on the bed. Toby had pulled a chair over to its side. “How so?”

“Well, the pie represents your political ideology. My pie is real and I can eat it because I am true to my political beliefs. My pie is obviously a piece of democrat pie. Your pie on the other hand…”

“Oh my God!” Sam sat upright and stared at Toby in horror. “I’m a Republican!”

“It would appear so.”

“My pie is fake! I’m fake! I’m been lying to myself and the good people of this nation all this time.”

“There could be some ramifications.”

“CJ will be pissed.”

The two lapsed into silence. The clock ticked in the living room and set a steady rhythm with a dripping tap in the kitchen. Toby crossed his hands in his lap and shook his head. “Of course, the pie could represent wealth.”

“Now you’re cooking.” Sam nodded enthusiastically, pleased that his political ideals were safe. “I’m always living beyond my pie.”

Toby began to figure out how real pie and fake pie could relate to their financial situations. Sam listened. The clock and the tap faded as the sound of Toby’s voice filled the room. Sam heard Toby suggest that he should cut his pastry according to his pie before he fell asleep unaware of the laptop being unplugged, the covers straightened and the light extinguished and then the total silence in the room allowing the clock and tap to speak up once more.

 

At the same time Toby was creeping out of Sam’s room, Josh was creeping into his office. It was dark and no one was around except for a security guard doing the rounds and a cleaner who was busy empting the trash cans. He switched on the light on his desk and pulled open a drawer. Pulling out a pad he leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of a pencil as he studied a list of names. Brookline was involved; there was no doubt about that, Gillmore, Emerson. Josh scribbled some lines between the names, the lines turned into doodles. He sighed and pulled the drawer open again and reached for the file containing all the information gathered so far about the attack. He rubbed at his forehead and looked up instinctively for Donna but the only activity at her desk was a cleaner righting a file box that had been pulled over by the vacuum. He got up and went into the Bullpen to start the coffee machine.

Returning to his desk he stood over the file and flipped it open. Emerson’s name was underlined at the top of the page. He turned the page and another name jumped out at him. Carl Rainer. Josh kicked his chair back and sat down. “Rainer, Rainer, Rainer,” he repeated hoping that whatever it was that was bugging him about the name would reveal itself. Pulling the file towards him he placed his list by the side of it and started going through the names again. Emerson worked for Gilllmore and had been fired. They all knew about that link but there were others, Josh was certain of it and if he could find them he could find the men responsible, the men to blame. And, if he could do that, he might just be able to stop blaming himself.

 

When Donna arrived in the morning, Josh was still hard at work. The list had been joined by others and files were now spread across his desk. The coffee pot was only half full and the coffee in it long since stale. 

She frowned, draped her coat over her chair and walked into his office. “Have you been here all night?”

“Nearly. Listen, tell Margaret as soon as Leo gets in I need to see him.” He picked up a pile of paper and shoved it into a file.

“Where are you going?” Donna asked as he walked past her skimming one of the papers from the file.

“Ainsley’s old office. Phone me when Leo gets in.” 

“Josh!” He stopped in the doorway. “What can I do?”

Josh breathed slowly, stilling himself for a few moments. “Nothing. Phone me when he’s in, okay?”

Donna nodded set about making some fresh coffee. She had a feeling Josh was going to need it.

 

It was two hours later that Sam and Toby arrived and went into their respective offices. Sam flipped through a number of messages as Toby hung up his coat before going next door. “We need to make a start on the USW dinner.”

“I’ll do it,” Sam offered. “I’ve got the files somewhere here and I can meet with Brandon later to get those figures we need.”

Toby nodded and was about to reply when Donna appeared. He saw her subtle nod to his office and followed her inside. “Josh needs to see you. He’s in Ainsley’s old office.”

Toby frowned. “I take it I’m not meant to tell Sam where I’m going.”

Donna shook her head. “No, you’re not. Will you tell Josh that I know he hasn’t had any breakfast.”

“Are you interested in knowing if I’ve had any breakfast or not?”

“Not so much.”

“Okay.” Toby went back to Sam but seeing he was already engrossed in his work, crept away silently before having to lie about where he was going.

He walked down the steps to where Josh was. The heat hit him as he reached the bottom. He opened the door and was surprised to find not just Josh but CJ and Leo as well. “We were going to have a codeword but CJ thought that was going too far,” Josh said as Toby closed the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” He asked as he took a seat next to CJ on the sofa that remained in the room along with the desk which was now full of files and scribbled on paper. Before anyone could answer the door was opened again.

“You know, the last time I was down here Ainsley was dancing around in a bathrobe. I may be wrong but I think that was more fun than this is going to be.” Bartlet closed the door behind him. 

“Mr President,” Toby said in greeting. “Am I the only one here who doesn’t know what’s going on?”

Josh perched on the front of the desk. He’d been up all night and it was showing. “We’re not going to get the guys that went after Sam doing what we’re doing.”

“Excuse me, we’re not?”

“No, Toby, we’re not. We’re getting nowhere fast. No one’s talking. If we were going to get anything from anyone it would have been straight after we sent the message out there that we were going after them.” 

Toby sat back. He looked at CJ, then Leo then Bartlet. He had the feeling that a decision had already been made. “So what are you proposing we do?”

“I’m already doing it. I’ve gone back through the names we had and I’ve been looking for links. We already knew Emerson was involved in getting the Gillmore news out there so there had to be a similar link with who organised the attack.”

Leo stepped forward and continued. “Josh is going to be out of commission for a few days. Donna’s cancelled his schedule. He’s going after them, Toby. He has a good idea of who might be at the bottom of this and he’s going after them.”

Bartlet stuck his hands in his pockets and stepped away from where he had been leaning against the desk. “By the time he’s finished there’ll be a few vacancies on the Hill and around DC. He can expose them or they can get out of town. It’ll be their choice but one way or another every person involved in harming Sam will be gone from here.”

Toby nodded slowly. Their plan hadn’t worked, he had to admit that. He also knew Josh was so fired up by guilt and anger at the moment that if anyone could find out who was to blame and deal with them, he could. “Okay. What do you need us to do?”

“Keep Sam occupied. Make sure he doesn’t think anything’s up,” CJ answered.

“I can do that. What are we saying about Josh?”

“He’s taking meetings on the Hill on the Briggs recommendations,” Leo supplied.

Toby nodded again. Bartlet looked at everyone in the room. Happy that they all seemed to agree he nodded almost imperceptibly at Leo. “Okay, thank you. I’ll see you all for staff.” They thanked him and started to leave. “Josh, stay here for a moment would you?”


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

Dedicated to TBMeow who I told to go to bed and plot Bartlet’s conversation with Josh, and she did, better than I could have.

President Bartlet sat on the edge of the desk and stuck his hands in his pockets. Josh stood in front of him waiting in silence.

“You know, I’ve known Leo for a long time, Josh. We were friends long before either of us had any notion of running for anything let alone President of the United States.”

Josh nodded. He had no idea where the conversation was heading but he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be about Bartlet’s friendship with Leo.

“Friends like Leo don’t come along very often. In fact I’d say you’d be lucky to find one in a lifetime.” Bartlet paused and nodded to the sofa. He sat down and Josh joined him. “I’ve watched you and Sam. Seen you bring him on board, encourage him to stay with it when Toby growled at the sound of his name and I couldn’t even remember what his name was.” 

Josh couldn’t hide the puzzled frown that crossed his face. Bartlet didn’t miss it.

“Sam will forgive you for the crass things you said to him. It might take me a little longer.” 

Josh’s eyes widened. He started to speak but then fell silent.

“Josh, why do you think we keep Sam away from certain issues?”

“I’m having a little trouble keeping up here, sir.”

Bartlet smiled. “I’m trying to make you understand that the friendship Leo and I have is what got me here. I see a lot of our dynamic in you and Sam. I see a lot of myself in Sam. I see a lot of Leo in you. So, I’ll ask you again, why do you think we keep Sam away from certain issues?”

Josh took a deep breath. He nodded in understanding. “Because you think there’s a chance that one day Sam will run for President.”

“I do.” Bartlet sat forward. “And I think there’s an equally good chance that when he does, you’ll be there. You’ll get him there, Josh.”

Josh nodded but it was slowly and in astonishment at Bartlet’s words. “I don’t know why I said what I did. I don’t believe it. I don’t know why I said those things.”

“It’s not me you have to say that to. But remember, I’m still pissed with you about that.”

At last something other than bewilderment graced Josh’s face and his small smile signalled to Bartlet that his point had been made and without damaging his fragile Deputy Chief of Staff more than he already was. “You’ll do the right thing.” He stood and walked towards the door before stopping and turning back, “Leo’s annoying that way as well.”

Josh remained on the sofa. He thought about what the President had said. He thought back to how Sam had been kept out of the loop and how it hadn’t even occurred to him why. He thought back to the things he had said to Sam and rose with a new determination to find the men responsible and at least make that right. 

 

 

“What’s going on?”

Toby had tried to make it past Sam’s door without being spotted but on hearing his call stepped back a few paces. “Nothing’s going on.” Sam stared up at him looking like he didn’t believe him. “Nothing’s going on,” Toby repeated and held his hand out for Sam to hand over what he had been writing. He perused it, nodded and handed it back. “It’s good. It’s not what I’d do with the link between freedom and Monderry’s speech, but it works.”

“Good, because I thought it was a little…”

“A little what?”

Sam shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

Toby waited but Sam looked back down at his work and picked up his pen again.

“I’ll be in my office,” Toby said but he remained by Sam’s desk for a moment longer before turning and returning to his.

He’d been working for thirty minutes before he saw Sam walk past his door. A few seconds later he appeared again. He had a rolled up piece of paper in his hand and he was tapping it gently against his leg. Toby returned to what he was reading but then Sam appeared again, pausing slightly in the doorframe before carrying on his short journey to the end of Toby’s window. “Sam!”

“Yes?” Sam darted into the doorway and replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be pacing up and down outside.

“Have you slept with anyone you shouldn’t have recently?” Toby asked thinking back to the last time Sam was outside his room procrastinating about coming to talk to him.

Sam smiled and ducked his head almost shyly. “No,” he replied as if it was a serious question. “I was just taking a break…change of scenery…you know.”

Toby nodded and returned to his work.

“Are you busy?” Sam took a step further into the room.

Toby gestured to his desk which was covered with books open at selected pages, two scribbled on legal pads and a pile of notes.

“Okay,” Sam answered stepping into the room and totally ignoring Toby’s non-verbal reply. “I’ve been thinking about…I think it’s time…I was thinking it’s time I moved back to my place.” 

Toby put down his pen and removed his hand from the book he had been flipping through. He knew this had been coming, knew it was a very good thing for Sam but he was totally unprepared for how disappointed he felt on hearing it. “That’s great. I think that’s just what you need right now.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “I think so too. I’m grateful. Please don’t think I’m not grateful. You’ve done so much for me these last few weeks and I’ve been, well, I’ve been a mess is what I’ve been but you’ve been great, Toby, and I know that if you hadn’t been around then I-”

“Will you be alright on your own,” Toby asked cutting Sam off and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

“I don’t really have a choice. I can’t live with you forever just because I occasionally wake up from a nightmare and may have an irrational fear of alleyways and analogous walkways.”

“Okay but you don’t have to go is what I’m saying. Don’t feel you have anything to prove to anyone because you don’t.”

“I know I don’t.” Sam spoke softly. He walked over to the sofa and sat down. “But I do have to do this because if I don’t soon I’m not sure I ever will. It’s getting that I don’t like to be alone and I was never like that. I’ve never been like that and I don’t want to start now because they took so much from me those men and I don’t want them to take that as well.” Sam stared at Toby and raised his eyebrows as if to show he was as surprised by his admission as Toby was. “Well, that, and the fact that you can only really fix four meals and after the first week and a half that becomes a little old.”

“When will you go?”

“This weekend, I was thinking.”

Toby nodded. “Good. Good for you.” He returned to his work.

 

Josh was nearly done. He’d been working in isolation for a week. He had finished his list and for many it was damning. The names started to link up and after numerous phone calls and clandestine meetings Josh had finally come up with a list of names that he could act on. He’d get them all. He knew deep down that he probably wouldn’t get to the main people responsible but he’d get further than they had before. 

He’d been working at home but had returned to his office today. He leaned back in his chair and pushed backwards until it rested against the wall behind him. With no real order in mind he started to number the names and plan how he would get to most of them before the word spread. Secretly he liked the idea of these men hearing he was on to them and nervously awaiting his visit. Maybe one or two would flee before he had a chance to get to them and do his work for him. The names weren’t just of people connected to the attack, they were people who had anything to do with the whole Gillmore affair. It would feel good to do what he could to right that offence as well. 

Josh glanced at the clock and threw his pen down on the table. He was done for the day. He let his chair fall forward. “Donna!” She appeared at his door almost instantly. “Have one of those windows put in my door, and have written upon it in golden letters ‘Josh Lyman, Detective’ for I have detected all that is rotten in DC and tomorrow I will hunt it down and leave it begging for its mommy.”

Donna looked at the door as if imagining the window’s lettering. “Josh Lyman, Private Dick.”

“And I’ll need one of those hats that-” he stopped and turned to her. “I don’t sense that you’re taking this seriously.”

“You sense correctly, Joshua.”

Josh shrugged. “It’s because I’m a great detective that I can sense these things.”

“What things?” Sam’s unexpected arrival at Josh’s door made Josh and Donna swivel round and stare at him wordlessly. 

Finally Donna found her voice. “Josh wants me to arrange to have Private Dick written on his door,” she explained.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s written the word dick on his door.” Sam shook his head, “In fact, there was this time in college when-”

“You can go, Donna,” Josh interrupted hastily. 

Donna frowned. “But I wanted to hear about the time everyone thought you were a dick!”

“Oh Donna, there were many times and will be many more, for those who achieve great things will often be thought of in disparaging terms by their peers and even though-” Josh was silenced by the sound of the door shutting firmly behind Donna. He turned his attention to Sam who was now sitting by his desk. “What’s up?” He hid his happiness at Sam turning up to see him behind the casual greeting.

“Not too much. I just haven’t seen you in a while and I was passing, so.” There was a silence between them and then they both spoke at once, one man smiled the other rolled his eyes and they spoke in unison again. “You go,” Sam offered.

“The other night…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called when I did and I had no right to expect you to want to talk to me just because I wanted to talk to you.”

“No, you didn’t, but then I recognise that you wanting to talk to me must have taken some working up to so it’s okay.”

“Yeah, we should though, talk, when you’re up for it.”

Sam nodded. “Not yet.”

The fact that Sam was even willing to entertain the notion of talking to Josh made him beam at Sam in relief. “No, not yet, but when you’re ready, it would be good.”

“Yeah, it would.” Sam stared at Josh for a moment then looked down at his hands which were folded in his lap. He stood and glanced at the door. “Well, I should get back. I told Toby I was going to find out about a quote he wanted.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to ask Lionel.”

“No, really, try me.”

“All government, indeed every human benefit and enjoyment, every virtue, and every prudent act, is founded on compromise and barter.”

Josh tapped his fingers on his desk. “Hmm.” 

Sam pursed his lips to hide his smile. “Any idea?”

“Who does Toby think it is?”

“Thomas Paine.”

“Thomas Paine!” Josh repeated victoriously. 

“I think it’s Edmund Burke.”

Josh frowned. “I really have no idea,” he admitted.

Sam nodded. “Did my asking you increase your self esteem?”

“Nah, I knew you were humouring me.”

“I was. But one day I’ll humour you and the joke will be on me.”

“One day,” Josh agreed. He watched as Sam walked over to the door. “The other night, were you having a flashback?”

Sam’s hand froze on the handle. He didn’t turn to face Josh. “It was a panic attack.”

Josh could see Sam’s grip on the handle increasing. “Okay, it was just that it really looked like you were somewhere else.”

“It was a panic attack,” Sam repeated, finally turning to face Josh to flash him a weak smile. He knew Josh didn’t believe him. He opened the door quickly and rushed away past Donna and back to his office, thoughts of seeing Lionel about the quote forgotten.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

“He’s having flashbacks.” Josh looked furtively around to make sure no one was listening while Toby paid for their coffees. 

“Yes.” Toby lifted the lid of his drink and blew across the brim.

“You knew!”

Josh hadn’t moved but Toby carried on walking back towards the White House.  
“Of course I knew. I’ve been living with him for the past month.” Josh took a sip of his drink and tried to keep up with Toby’s hurried steps. There was no rush but the grey clouds flitting across the White House told him that dawdling would be a bad idea. “He has nightmares, his wrist hurts so badly he can’t move it some days, he doesn’t eat unless I make him and he’s having flashbacks.”

Josh stalled again and Toby waited impatiently for him to catch up. “He should see someone. He should speak to someone like I did.”

“He is speaking to someone. Probably more accurately, someone is speaking to him.” Toby paused by a trash can and threw the lid into it. “He’s going back to his own place next weekend.”

“But he won’t eat!” Josh objected. “If you’re not there to make sure he does, he won’t eat. He’ll be having nightmares and flashbacks and not eating!”

Toby shrugged. Josh wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know. He finished the last of his coffee and squashed the cup down before sending it to join the already disposed of lid. “Tell me where you’re up to with your list.”

Realising that Toby wasn’t going to discuss Sam anymore, Josh proceeded to talk about how far he had got with his plan and how far he was still willing to go.

He was, it turned out, willing to go quite far. By the end of the following day Josh had met with most of the names from his list. A few had turned out to be ‘false-leads’ as Josh called them when informing Leo on his progress.

“Will you cut the private-eye crap and just tell me how far you’ve got!” Leo set his glasses down on his desk and sat down to listen as Josh told him how he had met three people so far. One obviously had no involvement and Josh had even considered apologising for putting him through the ordeal. One had gone white at the mention of Gillmore’s name and proceeded to give Josh a name. One had proved even more interesting. It was almost as if he had been waiting for Josh to come to him. 

“He said he knew it was only a matter of time before someone paid him a visit and he’d figured it would be Josh Lyman.” 

Leo couldn’t help but smile at Josh’s look of satisfaction. Whether Josh found out anything or not, Leo knew it was the best kind of therapy he could have. He nodded. “Go on.”

“His bag was actually packed! He had a suitcase in his office. He looked relieved in a way when he started telling me what he knew.”

“What did he know?” Leo shouted in exasperation.

Josh frowned. He’d been enjoying the build-up. “He knows a man called Dennis Harmon.”

Leo shrugged then waited. “Jesus, Josh, you’re stringing this out! I’ve got work to do here you know!”

“Dennis Harmon is a lawyer. He’s known by most on the Hill, mainly for the work he’s done for Michael Berridge, a lot of work, and by all accounts not for the most noble of causes.” Josh shook his head. “Harmon’s got Berridge out of more than one tight spot.”

“Okay, so what have Harmon and Berridge got to do with Gillmore and Sam?” Leo’s impatience with Josh had vanished as he became intrigued by the link he knew Josh had finally found. 

“They went to Harvard together. They were business partners and get this, Gillmore’s son is about to make part-”

“Partner at Berridge’s law firm,” Leo guessed correctly. 

Josh nodded. “But here’s the thing. Remember how Berridge was petitioning for my resignation after the Gillmore stuff?” 

Leo nodded. “Lots of people were petitioning for that.” He shrugged. “I just think it does you good to be reminded of that every once in a while.”

“Word on the Hill was that he was taking it personally and the stuff he was saying about me behind closed doors was a lot more threatening than what he was saying on Capital Beat. This is where Harmon comes in. He’s seen all the time, on the Hill, meeting with Berridge, all the time. Then, suddenly it stops. Berridge goes away for a few days straight after Sam was attacked and Harmon starts turning into a nervous wreck. Then when he gets back Harmon turns up again but this time he’s not so welcome. Apparently he was removed from Berridge’s offices more than once. Harmon’s been seen moping around bars, hanging around after meetings waiting for him to show up and then suddenly he disappears, resigns from the law firm, leaves his apartment and moves into a hotel, actually a number of hotels. He’s still around, he was seen last week, but he won’t be for long.”

Leo sat back and rubbed at his eyes. “He knows who ordered the attack. At the very least he knows that. He has something on Michael Berridge that’s for sure.”

“That’s why I have to find him and soon.” 

“That’s why Ron has to find him.”

“Wait, I didn’t get this far to turn it all over to Ron!”

“You’ve got as far as I’m letting you go, Josh.”

Josh stood up and placed his hands on his hips. He didn’t speak. He knew he’d regret saying what he wanted to say. He looked at Leo who returned his gaze with equal determination. 

“You’re not taking this further, Josh, and if you try the agents I’m going to have posted on you will haul your ass back here so quickly you’ll be dizzy for a month.”

“Leo, just let me tr-”

“No! Apart from anything else, and there are many reasons why you pursuing this would be disastrous, we’re working on hearsay and that doesn’t generally make for a good case in a courtroom. If we want to get these guys then we need to make sure that everything is by the book. How we got to Harmon is unimportant but getting him is going to be done by people trained in law enforcement!”

Josh stared at Leo for a few more moments before slumping back onto the sofa. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. A small nod was the only indication he gave that he agreed. Eventually his head rose and he leant back in the chair. “You’re going to have agents posted on me?”

“Josh, it’s only a matter of justifying secret service expenditure that’s stopped me doing that every day since we came into office.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Josh’s face. “You think I’m not capable of pretty much anything by myself don’t you.”

“Pretty much,” Leo agreed. He reached for his glasses and put them on. “Go on. Go find Sam. Take him for a drink. You’ve done as much as you can to fix this, now go fix it with Sam.”

Josh nodded. He stood slowly, suddenly feeling the effects of his sleep deprived past few days. He paused by the door. “If it means anything, I’d do anything I could to go back and change some of the things I’ve done.”

Leo didn’t look up from the file he was leafing through. “You, me, The President and any other honest man, Josh.” 

Josh stared at Leo but he remained glued to the papers in his hand. Josh’s head bowed. He was forgiven. It was time to move on. He straightened and opened the door flashing a grin at Margaret as he passed her. He walked briskly through the corridor only slowing when he reached the communications bullpen to sort through what he was going to say to Sam.

 

 

Sam wasn’t in his office. He was sitting in Toby’s spare room trying to remember if Shearings Book of Quotations 2005 edition was his or Toby’s. He had packed most of his things and was secretly grateful that Toby had told him he’d stay and finish the speech so that Sam could sneak off reasonably early to get it done. 

A piece of paper caught his eye under the bed and Sam reached down to pick it up. It was the care leaflet that the hospital had given Toby when he’d been discharged. Sam read the information about broken ribs, cast arms and collapsed lungs. There were notes in-between each bullet point and various phrases had been underlined. Sam smiled on recognising the script as Toby’s. He folded the sheet up and tucked it into the pocket of his bag. He’d washed the sheets and remade the bed, restocked the fridge with Toby’s favourite beer, cleaned and vacuumed and now had no reason not to head off to his apartment. 

No reason at all.

Sam sat back down on the bed. It would be rude to go without saying goodbye to Toby he told himself. He picked up the remote and flicked through the channels. 

 

 

By the time Toby came home Sam was asleep. He opened his door to the Lone Ranger theme tune blaring out of the TV in Sam’s room and shook his head. 

… the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early west. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again!

Toby followed the sound into Sam’s room and turned off the TV. “Hey, Tonto, wake up!”

Sam bolted upright. A look of intense confusion crossed his face and then he caught sight of Toby standing at the end of the bed, arms folded, frowning. “Um, that right, Kemosabe,” Sam mumbled as he pulled the comforter off his legs and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I was just going, before I fell asleep, I was just about to go.”

“You need a hand with your bags?” 

“Thanks!” Sam stood and shook the remnants of sleep from his head. “I’m going, don’t worry!”

“No, I meant when you go, not now, when you go do you need a hand with your bags.”

Sam looked at Toby and smiled. He tried to convey his thanks for all Toby had done for him but knew that wouldn’t be possible with just a look. He reached down and picked up the biggest bag. “Yeah, can you get that one?”

Toby grabbed the rucksack and followed him from the room. They made their way to Sam’s car and placed the bags in the trunk. Sam wiped again at his eyes and yawned. “Man, I’m beat.”

“I’ll drive you then,” Toby offered with hastiness that if Sam noticed he pretended not to.

“I’ll be fine.” Again Sam looked at Toby but this time wished he could read the silent message he was being sent.

“I’ll drive,” Toby repeated and there was clearly going to be no discussion.

They drove in silence. Sam confused by why Toby was so keen to take him home and even more confused by why he was so glad of it. “I haven’t slept for the past three nights,” Sam suddenly announced as they pulled up at some lights. Toby’s eyes didn’t leave the road ahead.

“I know.”

“Oh.” Sam watched the wipers clear the first few drops of rain. “How do you know?”

“Because I have slept the past three nights.”

“Oh,” Sam said again but almost too quietly for Toby to hear.

 

Dennis Harmon also had some bags in the trunk of his car. He was headed for Dulles Airport. He was sweating so badly he had to wipe his hands on his pants before readjusting his grip on the wheel. Berridge still refused to answer his calls. Dennis didn’t need to put two and two together to know that the man who had snuck up on him last night as he was getting into his car and warned him to keep his mouth shut had been sent by him. He put his foot down and hoped that the further away he got from DC, the further away he got from Michael, menacing men in car parks and most of all the possibility of being found out for his role in the attack on Sam Seaborn.

 

Josh rang the bell again and then banged on the door. Toby’s car wasn’t in the drive but Sam’s was so he decided Sam must be in but hiding from him. Josh’s paranoia where Sam was concerned had grown to a level that Donna had decided was extreme even for him. He rang then banged again. “Sam! Open up. I know you’re in there. Well, I don’t know you’re in there but your car’s here so…”

“Will you please shut up!” 

Josh looked up to see an irate neighbour leaning out of his window. “They’re not in or if they are in they don’t want you to know so just shut up already and get the hell out of here!”

Josh’s mouth opened but for once he could think of nothing to say in reply. He closed his mouth, opened it again, still couldn’t think of anything so hurried back to his car.

 

“Can you place your laptop in the tray please, sir.” Harmon was so close. Another few steps and he’d be past the security check and making his way onto the plane. The security guard looked up at him and studied his face. Aware of the scrutiny he was under he tried desperately to stop his hands from shaking and hoped the sheen of perspiration on his forehead would be put down to the cramped, stuffy room. “You’ll have to detach your bag from the trolley, sir; it’ll set off the sensor otherwise.” Harmon pulled the bag towards him. Smile, he thought. No, don’t smile that will look suspicious. No one smiles when they’ve just queued for thirty minutes. His hands were shaking and when he did manage to unhook the elastic securing his bag to the small wheeled trolley it pinged upwards towards his face. He ducked and ran a hand through dishevelled hair. “Sorry, he mumbled and then realised he had the perfect excuse for his behaviour. “I should have let that hit me then maybe I’d be out for the flight!”

The guard didn’t smile. He waited while Hammond fumbled with the strap and then watched him hoist the bag back onto the trolley. He followed its journey along the belt and through the detector. He had one hand on the handle and had almost cleared it from the other side of the detector when a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

“Mr Hammond, come with me please.”


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

Sam was eating pizza, watching football and drinking beer and he felt more normal than he had in weeks. Toby was doing likewise but his thoughts were focused on the phone call he’d just received from Leo. He knew something was about to happen and he knew it had to do with the attack on Sam but that was all he knew. Leo had phoned to warn him the news would probably break tonight about an arrest linked to the attack and that Harmon was involved. 

“He picked a good night to move out,” Leo said of Sam’s return to his place. “You might want to give him a heads up.”

Toby had said that he’d probably ring him and hoped Leo couldn’t hear the sound of Sam whistling in the kitchen.

He didn’t tell Sam about Leo’s call. There was no need worrying him about something that may or may not happen or getting his hopes up that the people behind his attack might be about to be caught. Instead, he’d paid the pizza guy and set about clearing the coffee table and placing the beer and food onto it. Now he was sitting opposite Sam with one eye on CNN.

“Are you going to eat the crusts?” Toby asked of the remnants of pizza on Sam’s plate.

“No, they’re doughy.” Sam reached for his beer.

“They’re not doughy. Mine weren’t doughy.” Toby ignored Sam’s puzzled frown. “You should eat your crusts, they make your hair curl...or something.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Because as sweet as your concern for my eating habits is, I think you’re actually worrying about something else and hiding it behind phoney pizza crust concern.” Toby shrugged as if indifferent to Sam’s accusations. “Why do you keep glancing at the TV as if it’s going to explode?”

Toby opened his mouth to protest but then glanced at Sam and realised that having him worry about what Toby might be hiding from him was worse than having him worry about what might happen. “Leo thinks Ron’s onto whoever had you attacked. He thinks it’s going to go down tonight and the story will break tonight as well.”

“Who?”

“Leo said Ron was the-”

“No, who did it? Who was it?”

“I don’t know, Leo didn’t say.”

Sam nodded slowly. “There’s a game on,” he announced as he reached for the remote and switched channels. Absently, he picked up a crust from his plate and took a bite. 

 

 

It took exactly thirty-four minutes for Dennis Harmon to crack under the pressure of Ron’s questions. He gave up Michael Berridge with a speed that surprised Ron. He told him everything, his part in the plan, how he didn’t know who the men he had paid to attack Sam were, how he wouldn’t be able to identify them and how, most of all, it was all Berridge’s idea. He pleaded with Ron to understand that the men were not meant to really harm Seaborn, they were just meant to rough him up. He told how he had been desperately searching for a way to make things right ever since and been trying to convince Berridge to give himself up. 

“And you thought you’d be able to do that from…” Ron glanced at the plane ticket, “Beijing better than you could from here in DC?”

“Yes, I thought that if I-” Harmon sank into his seat. “I want a lawyer.”

“You bet.” Ron stood, nodded at the policeman at the door and left the room.

 

 

The phone’s shrill ring startled Toby who knocked it off the arm of the sofa, and skidding over the coffee table. He quickly retrieved it from the floor. “Hello…yes…yes…I see…okay…I’ll tell him…CNN, who else? CJ’s on it? Okay.”

Sam was staring at him in expectation. Toby walked back to his seat placing the phone slowly in his pocket before speaking. “Dennis Harmon has been arrested. Ron’s just finished interviewing him. He’s involved and he’s given up his accomplice, Michael Berridge.”

Sam had shown no reaction to Harmon’s name but the mention of Berridge made him shoot to his feet. “Michael Berridge! Are you sure?”

Toby nodded and frowned. “You know him?”

“Yes. Yes, I know him. He’s played golf with my dad for the last ten years. I skippered his boat in the Pacific Northwest Championships. I spent, truly, the most awful Thanksgiving at his place in Sag Harbour. I know him, well, I should say I thought I knew him as during none of those occasions did I once think ‘now here’s a guy who, at some point in the future, will happily employ two thugs to beat the crap out of me’!” 

“Well, no, because I’d imagine you’d have skipped that whole Thanksgiving at Sag Harbour thing if you had.” The attempt at humour was enough to stop Sam from his dizzying parade around the coffee table and make him turn to face Toby.

“Michael Berridge?”

Again Toby nodded, and waited. He wasn’t sure if Sam would continue ranting, trash the room or go back to sullenly eating cold pizza crusts. Sam did none of those. He returned to his seat and slumped down onto it. “Michael Berridge,” he repeated in disbelief. He turned to Toby and sighed. “Where’s Josh?”

The question threw Toby who muttered that he didn’t have the faintest idea where Josh was. 

“He’s responsible for this isn’t he?” Sam asked. “I mean, he’s been burrowed away somewhere doing something. It’s been to do with this hasn’t it.”

Toby nodded. He was surprised Sam hadn’t asked about Josh’s absence before this. “He’s been speaking to people, trying to find out who’s responsible.”

“I’d imagine he’s feeling pretty pleased with himself.”

“I’d imagine he is.”

Silence fell over the two men. Sam rested his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I still blame him.” The admission made Toby lean forward and turn to Sam even though Sam’s gaze remained on the ceiling. “I don’t want to and I know it’s not fair but I do.” Sam shrugged. “I can’t forget what he said to me either even though I know he said those things in anger, frustration, whatever, he still said them and he meant them.” Sam rubbed at his face wearily and then shook his head. “So, there you have it.”

“Do you tell George this stuff?”

“I’m building up to it.” Sam stood and stretched the tension from his back. “I think I’ll call it a day.” He looked down at Toby who gestured to the coffee table and half empty bottle. His car keys were lying beside it.

“Maybe I should…”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed and he led the way to the spare room to check that the bed was made. 

Toby started to take his suit jacket off as Sam plugged in the bedside lamp. “You know, someone is going to have to move out of somewhere soon or we’ll have to get married.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Sam answered. He knew that he should order Toby to get a cab, should insist that he was fine but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. The sudden, inexplicable fear of being alone had grabbed him and he was relieved beyond words that Toby had drunk too much to drive home. 

For his part, Toby was just as relieved that Sam wasn’t putting up a fight about him staying. He’d put a lot of thought and energy into getting Sam back on track and he wasn’t quite ready yet to let his charge go. Four hours later, when he heard the shout and saw the light spill into the corridor from Sam’s room, he knew he’d made the right decision.

“Sam?”

“It’s okay.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

The light stayed on though and Toby waited another half hour before it was switched off and he too finally fell back to sleep.

 

 

“How long has he been in there?” Josh walked the short distance from Leo’s sofa to the closed door to the Oval Office and back to the sofa. “I’ve been here for ten minutes-”

“Feels like sixty,” Leo mumbled under his breath.

“It must be good news if the debriefing’s taking this long. Then again it could be bad news and he’s just string-”

“Josh!” Leo watched in satisfaction as Josh jumped, turned away from the door and faced him. “Will you just sit down and shut up and give my carpet a rest!”

Josh complied with all three orders and Leo returned to the report he was studying.

“How long has he been in there?” This time it was Toby who asked the question as he entered Leo’s office and took a seat next to Josh. 

“Don’t ask him that. I asked him that and he shouted at me,” Josh said as the sofa dipped as Toby leant back into it.

“Has he been in there long?” Unaware of what had followed previously CJ asked the question in all innocence and was surprised by the giant huff of a sigh that Leo expelled on hearing it.

“I don’t know how long he’s been in there. I don’t know what he’s telling the President and I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be.”

“Well, okay then. That told me.” CJ replied as she took a seat on the other side of Josh. A few more moments passed in silence broken only by the occasional rustle of paper as Leo turned a page of the hefty report.

“In Alaska it’s considered an offence to push a live moose out of an aeroplane.” Sam announced as he entered the room

“I have no idea why you’re telling us that but you’re not asking me how long Ron’s going to be with the President so I don’t care.”

Sam walked over to the sofa and stood behind it. “I’m just saying.” Sam shrugged, “However, I don’t know what the State of Alaska’s stance is on a dead moose being thrown from a plane.”

“Sam,” Toby said quietly, a warning note in his voice.

“You’re dismissing it now, Toby, but don’t come running to me when a moose comes hurtling from the skies and we’re expected to have a position on it.” Sam cocked his head to one side, “Not a position on the actual moose, I mean a position on the ramifi-”

“Sam!” Toby’s harsh cry stopped Sam in his tracks. He moved over to a chair and sat down. Silence returned to the room but was soon broken by the sound of the door to the Oval Office opening. A silent message was conveyed by a look and Leo walked towards his friend who stood in the doorway. Josh stood and walked around the sofa. He stopped by Leo’s desk, studied the carving along its edge and then walked back round the sofa. 

The Oval Office door opened again and Leo walked back into the room followed by Bartlet. Leo returned to his desk and stood in front of it. The President perched on the front next to him. “Ron is happy and when Ron is happy I’m usually happy too. Conspiring to assault and conspiring to obstruct the course of justice are two terms that Michael Berridge and Denis Harmon are going to be sick of the sound of pretty soon. Berridge was arrested an hour ago. He seemed to have developed the same sudden love of airports as Harmon. The police got to him just as he was boarding a flight at National.”

Bartlet looked to Leo who turned his gaze towards Sam. Who, aware that he should at least acknowledge the work that had been done and its successful conclusion, spoke up. “Well that’s…good.”

“Good. Yes, Sam, you could say good,” Bartlet agreed. “You could go so far as to say very good.”

“It is,” Sam agreed. “It’s very good.”

“Well I’m glad we’ve decided on the appropriate vocabulary now let’s decide on how we’re going to handle it.” Leo looked first to CJ who immediately set about making briefing arrangements while Toby started scribbling notes. Bartlet turned his attention to Josh, who was studying the carpet, and waited for him to look up. When he did the message he received from the President was clear. Josh waited for a pause in the conversation.

“We should go for a drink, celebrate, tonight. We should go for a drink tonight.”

“You should,” Bartlet agreed. “Sam, does that sound like a good idea to you?”

Sam thought it sounded like a terrible idea but he nodded, forced a smile and heard himself agree to a night out with Josh, CJ and Toby. He followed Toby back to their offices wondering if making a bad job of the press release CJ needed them to write would mean having to stay late and being able to avoid the impromptu evening out.

 

An hour later, despite Sam’s best efforts, Toby had the first draft completed. Sam sat swivelling in his chair as he dictated to him. “Mr Seaborn is relieved that this matter can finally be brought to a close. He’d like to thank his friends and colleagues for their support. He’d-” Sam stilled the chair and sat forward, “Is that a Prada tie?”

“Sam!”

“No, really, that’s a nice necktie.”

“He’d like to thank his friends and colleagues...” Toby prompted, adding under his breath, “for not throttling him I should think.”

“For their support. He’d also like to extend his thanks to the law enforcement agencies responsible for their blah blah blah.” Sam waved his hand in the air as if to indicate Toby knew what he should write.

“Oh, I see, it’s just one of those everyday press releases we write when a member of the senior staff gets beaten to a pulp and left to die in an alleyway.”

“You know what to put, Toby, just say I’m grateful to the people I should be grateful to, thank my shrink in advance of what I’m sure will prove to be hours of fun filled therapy and put something in there about how I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for the encouragement of my mother.”

Toby put his pad down and sat back in his chair. “Why are you being so blasé about this?” 

“Because it’s crap.”

Toby raised his eyebrows. “You want to maybe expand on that?”

Sam shrugged. “Well, it is. You’re writing what you want me to say so that everyone can go to bed happy that the bad men have been caught, peace reigns in the White House and it will take more than an act of mindless violence to destroy the Bartlet administration.” Sam stood and picked up his coat. “You can stay here and finish up without me. I’m going to meet my friend, you know, the one who I officially don’t blame at all for me nearly dying. So…” he shrugged on his coat, “that should be fun.”

Toby didn’t try to stop him. He turned back to his work and started furiously scribbling down the statement so that he could hurry after Sam and avert whatever disaster was sure to be waiting at the bar.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-seven 

 

CJ looked up as Sam arrived at the bar. She looked behind him expectantly for Toby. 

“He’s finishing up,” Sam explained of his boss’ absence as he took a seat next to her. He nodded curtly at Josh and pulled a menu out of a stand on the table even though he had no intention of having anything to eat.

“What do you want?” Josh asked, keen to get away from the table and Sam’s frosty greeting.

“Jack Daniels, please. No ice.”

CJ placed her hand over her glass at Josh’s silent enquiry and turned her attention to Sam. She waited until Josh was at the bar before speaking. “So, Toby’s still working?”

“He’s finishing up.” Sam put the menu back. It rested crookedly so he pulled it out and straightened the others before placing it back in. Looking up at CJ with a disarming smile he shrugged. “Crossing the t’s.”

“Dotting the i’s,” CJ finished for him. “So, this is good. The old gang out together. I can’t remember the last time we went for drinks.”

“Well, it was probably before the old gang got into the habit of not speaking to each other and telling each other lies when they did.” CJ’s eyebrows rose and Sam shrugged again. “Sorry, I’m a little, you know.”

CJ was about to say that she didn’t know when Toby made his entrance. He was waging war with his scarf which was tangled around his neck. Finally he pulled it off and threw it on the back of a chair next to CJ. His coat followed and he sat down heavily. “There are ten thousand lunatics on the roads tonight.”

“Well, one less now,” CJ offered.

“Is it done?” Sam asked of the grumpy man sitting opposite him.

“It is.” The three sat in silence until Josh returned to the table. 

Sam reached for his drink and downed half of it. He placed the glass back onto the table and looked across at Josh. “CJ was just saying she couldn’t remember the last time we all went out for drinks.”

CJ tensed at what was coming next but relaxed when Toby took up the theme and suggested it was after the State of the Union. 

“Yeah, probably then,” Sam agreed. Another silence fell over them in which Sam finished the rest of his drink. He asked his companions if they wanted another then went to the bar.

“This is bad,” CJ announced. “This is not good.”

“It could be worse.” Toby glanced at Josh, “Sam hasn’t hit him yet.”

“And that’s always a good evening for me,” Josh agreed. “Why did he get here before you?”

Toby rubbed at the tension in his neck. “He wasn’t taking the whole statement thing too seriously.” He took a slow sip of his drink, certain that whatever happened tonight Sam intended to end the evening drunk and so he determined he would need to remain sober. “Don’t expect too much, Josh. He’s come a long way but he’s got a long way to go when it comes to your…”

“Relationship!” CJ whispered in mock horror. “God, Toby, you can say the word you know, it won’t kill you.”

“Yeah, well, with that. Sam’s got a long way to go with that. It’s good that he’s here though. That’s a step in the right direction and shows he’s willing to try.”

Josh nodded but neither CJ nor Toby was convinced that he believed it. Josh looked up as a group at the table next to them burst into laughter. A woman apologised as she leaned back into Josh’s space to take a photo of the two men at the head of the table who were sitting with their arms around each other grinning at the camera. She thanked Josh and returned to her friends. Josh turned his attention to Sam who was still waiting at the bar. He watched as Sam downed a shot before paying for the drinks. Sam caught his eye as he turned back towards the table. For a fleeting moment Josh saw a helplessness there that made him shudder but then Sam glanced down at the tray and when he looked up again his eyes held the same cold expression that Josh had come to dread seeing.

CJ kept the conversation going and as the glasses mounted up, mostly in front of Sam, she did her best to include him in it. Sam was not that interested in talking though. He was interested in getting away from the bar as soon as possible but he felt he owed it to Toby to at least try and so remained. He took solace in the thought that it was Toby he was staying for and not Josh. He didn’t believe he owed Josh anything. 

Josh wanted to talk. He wanted to share his day with his friends. He wanted to talk about Gillmore and the latest from Ron. He wanted to tell Sam he was sorry that it was his dad’s friend that had been responsible. He wanted to say a lot of things but, like Sam, he drank and listened to CJ chattering away buoyed up only by Toby’s occasional input.  
Everyone was relieved when Josh’s phone rang. He held it to his ear and covered his other with his hand but still could not hear over the noise in the bar. He gestured to the door and walked quickly outside. 

 

 

“Sam, you have to move on somehow. I’m not saying it’s easy but you have to try.” CJ’s sudden change of conversation from pressroom seating arrangements to the subject everyone was avoiding took Sam by surprise.

“Leave him alone,” Toby answered for him. 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “I can answer for myself! Leave me alone, CJ.”

CJ reached out and covered Sam’s hand with her own. “Just promise me you’ll try. Josh has screwed up and maybe you’ll never truly forgive him for what he’s done and said but promise you’ll try.”

“I promise I’ll try.” Sam felt his hand squeezed and smiled at CJ. “Do I have to promise to try hard or is this like when you promise your doctor you’ll get more exercise?”

The squeeze turned into a slap. “No it isn’t! It’s a proper promise like a promise you make to a lover as the morning sun creeps into the room and over the bed.”

Sam frowned. “You see, a lot of those types of promises for me are like doctor promises.”

“Oh, for crying out loud! Can we move on now please? He promised. I heard him,” Toby said.

CJ and Sam shared a grin as their hands parted. Sam drained yet another drink and stood. CJ had decided she was hungry and Toby, knowing Sam hadn’t eaten since lunch, sent Sam back to the bar to order drinks and food. 

 

 

“No it’s just a car going by, say it again.” Josh was walking up and down outside the bar trying to hear what Donna was saying. “You called to remind me that my body can’t cope with even slightly above average levels of alcohol?” He glanced behind him through the window. He couldn’t see CJ or Toby but could see that Sam was walking away from the table. 

“I called to remind you that you’re meant to be looking after Sam tonight. When you and Sam go drinking it’s usually him who ends up looking after you.”

“I resent that, Donna. I’m more than capable of looking after Sam, sober or drunk.” He glanced through the window again and saw Sam move forward between two other men to get a place at the crowded bar.

 

 

Toby and CJ had their backs to the bar and now that Sam and Josh were gone, Toby started to tell CJ what Sam had been like earlier. He filled her in on what he had written but advised her against asking Sam about it. He also told her that the idea that Sam might make a statement himself was a definite no-go. 

Sam had thought he’d got the bartender’s attention but he had turned to a man at the other side of the bar. The place was hot and crowded and Sam was beginning to wonder if it might be a good idea to return to the table and suggest they went somewhere quieter. He knew Toby and CJ would understand but then he remembered Josh was there too and he would probably want an explanation. Sam was tired of thinking of how to explain things to people, especially Josh. Suddenly, Sam lost his footing as he was jostled slightly to the side.

“Shit!”

Sam glanced up.

“What the fuck, man!” The man standing close to Sam wiped at the beer that had spilt over him while a younger man apologised and reached for a wad of napkins. Sam moved to his right to avoid the exaggerated gestures as the older man patted at his shirt and trousers. “What did you say?”

Sam tensed at the hostile tone and moved even further away.

“Nothing, nothing, I just said you were all over the place,” the younger man hurriedly explained.

The older man laughed but there was no humour to it. He turned to Sam. “All over the place, this guy thinks I’m all over the place.” He smiled at Sam and then turned away suddenly, landing a punch in the younger man’s face. “Pretty solid, huh, asshole? I seem all over the place now?”

Toby turned around at the sound of shouting but all he could see was the group from the table beside him who had chosen that moment to leave the bar thus blocking his view of where Sam was standing. He turned back to CJ.

The force of the punch had forced the man to the floor. His glasses were broken but remained lopsidedly on his face. He held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. He reached up a shaking hand to right his glasses and started to rise. His assailant reached a hand out to help him up. It was accepted. He had only just risen to his feet when another punch, more brutal than the first, slammed him back to the floor.

Outside, Josh peered through the window again. He could see a group of people move quickly away from the bar but couldn’t make out what had caused their hurried departure. “Donna, have you finished telling me things I already know? Can I go back inside and actually do some of the stuff you’re ordering me to do?” Donna told him that he could and he finished the call. Dropping the phone back into his pocket his entrance to the bar was halted by the departure of the group he’d seen earlier. He couldn’t see inside yet but he could clearly hear Sam’s voice above all others.

“Hey!” 

The shout made the man turn back to Sam who had moved closer to the scuffle with a look of fierce protectiveness on his face that made the thug wonder if the guy he had grounded was Sam’s brother. “Leave him alone, jackass, he’s said he’s sorry. It was an accident.”

Sam felt his anger at the senseless attack surge through him. It was a powerful emotion and it felt incredibly good to feel something apart from fear so strongly. Sam was shorter than the aggressive man who now faced him but he didn’t step back when the man moved towards him. “You want some too?”

As an observer, Sam would have chuckled at the lame line. But, his anger was so potent and his need to banish his fear that he would always be a victim so overwhelming that he answered with an equally lame line but one that he knew would rile his adversary even further. It took the man mere seconds to react to Sam’s reply with his fists. More rapidly than Sam anticipated, he was sent to the floor like the man before him. He rose more quickly though and returned the punch with a crushing blow of his own. The man seemed more stunned at Sam’s reaction than the force of the punch. He shook his head and rose to his knees. A feral smile crossed his face before he leapt up, grabbed Sam by his shirt and swung him into the wall behind.

 

Toby had turned around again. A space had been created around the bar now and he could clearly see the fight that had broken out. “Oh good,” he mumbled. 

CJ followed his gaze and frowned. “You take me to the nicest joints,” she said to Toby but then a flash of sky-blue made her jump to her feet. The two men were moving around so quickly that it was hard to catch more than a glimpse of either of them but then the blue of Sam’s shirt flashed again and this time she was able to see for sure that it was Sam who was being slammed back against the bar. Her cry of Toby’s name was unnecessary. He had realised what was going on and was already rushing over. 

Josh had beaten them both to it. On hearing Sam’s shout he had barged past the people exiting the bar and headed straight for him. By the time Toby reached him, Josh was already attempting to drag Sam off the drunken man. His attempt was not successful. Sam elbowed Josh and sent him flying backwards, winded and momentarily useless. Toby rushed in and took his turn. He grabbed Sam by his arm and tried to pull him away but Sam managed to barge Toby off also. 

A row of barstools that had been quickly vacated was strewn across the floor as Sam forced the man backwards, along the bar and down to the floor. Any concept of time or place had long since departed for Sam. He was back in a place that haunted him. A place he tried so hard to forget but couldn’t. He was back in the alley. This time he was winning. This time he wasn’t being beaten. 

Josh had recovered his breath. He kicked a barstool out of his way beating Toby to Sam. He grabbed two handfuls of jacket and pulled Sam up and away from the helpless man beneath him. Toby immediately placed himself between Sam and the man on the floor. Across the bar, CJ gathered her friends’ coats and started to move towards them. 

Sam was trying his best to shrug out of Josh’s hold but Josh was ready this time and withstood the awkward blows without releasing his grip. Toby crouched down as the man beside him started to rise. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to him. The man grabbed it out of Toby’s grasp and dabbed at his bloodied nose. He glanced back at the hand which was still held in front of him and the item that was held in it. “Get out of here now or you’re a phone call away from being picked up on your way home by the secret service.”

The man wiped at his eyes and stared at the ID card. The name on it meant nothing to him but the Presidential Seal did. There was no doubt the man holding the card and talking to him in such a quietly, threatening way matched the photo. There was also no doubt that this man would follow through on his threat and had the means to make his life hell. The man wiped at his bloody nose again and watched as Toby placed the ID card back in his pocket. “You asshole, you think because you work at the White House you can threaten me!” It was all bluff though. He stood on shaky legs and threw the blood soaked handkerchief on the floor. He’d met his match in Sam and one look at his adversary who was still being restrained by Josh told him that he’d be wise to get out of the bar with the injuries he had, not stay around and add to them. He pushed past Toby and stumbled towards the door. Toby didn’t spare him a second glance. His attention was now firmly fixed on Sam who was still struggling to get out of Josh’s hold.


	28. Chapter 28

Twenty-eight

“Sam!” Josh struggled to keep hold of his friend who was determined to get loose and chase the man out of the bar. Sam lunged forward and then was pulled back. Josh ducked out of the way of Sam’s head as it flew back towards him. “Damn it, Sam!” 

Toby stepped forward into Sam’s line of vision but his attempts to calm him down were useless. He held his arm out to stop CJ from trying also. “He doesn’t know where he is,” he explained not needing to add that he was worried that Sam might lash out at her. She was worried about that too.

Josh continued to drag Sam away from the bar. He glanced to the right and saw the door to the street but decided if he lost his grip there it could be disastrous so he shepherded Sam towards the doorway that led to the poolroom. Sam stubbornly placed his feet down and refused to move but the fight had taken a lot out of him and Josh, fuelled by anger and desperation, was able to pull and shove him in the direction he wanted him to go.

Ian, the barman watched as they passed him and then set about straightening the bar and scattered stools.

“Believe it or not, Sam isn’t usually like this,” CJ explained as she bent down to lift a bottle that had landed by her feet.

“I believe it.” Ian took the bottle from her and placed it on the bar. “I know Sam. Well I mean I see him in here from time to time. He’s not the kind of guy who looks for trouble. I know what happened to him too, hard not to with the coverage you guys have been getting. They won’t be getting any stories from here, not if it has anything to do with me.”

CJ nodded and smiled. Ian looked like the sort of man who would make something happen whether it had anything to do with him or not. “Thanks.” CJ picked a towel from the bar and wiped the beer that had escaped from the bottle off her hands and nodded towards the poolroom. “I guess it would be hoping for too much for there to be a backdoor out of there?”

“Not only is there a backdoor, but if you cut through the alley to your right, you can get into the parking lot.”

CJ thanked him again and headed off to join her friends. “Oh great, an alleyway, Sam will be so pleased,” she mumbled to herself as she pushed the door open and closed it firmly behind her. 

 

The sight that greeted her on the other side of the door made her stop dead in her tracks. Toby was standing by a pool table looking on at Sam and Josh who stood in front of him. Rather, Josh was standing. She correctly assumed that Sam was only doing so because Josh had his arms wrapped tightly around him. Sam had his back to Josh and both were facing a mirror that ran along the length of the room. 

“Look at it, Sam!” Josh ordered and CJ held her breath waiting for Sam to comply or struggle once more out of Josh’s grasp. She didn’t know if it was Josh’s urgent tone, the tight hold he had or the sudden silence in the room but slowly, Sam lifted his head and looked at his reflection. “Look!” Josh repeated. “It’s over, Sam. You’re not in the alley. You’re in a...” Josh looked around him, “poolroom, or something. You’re not in the alley.” 

Josh waited. Sam had shown no reaction to his words so he continued to stare at his friend’s reflection. Sam studied his image and then his eyes slowly roamed around the room. Josh knew he would be able to see Toby in the mirror and CJ too. Finally Sam’s eyes returned to his own image and then, finally, they met Josh’s gaze. Something flashed across Sam’s face. He sagged against Josh and then downwards. Josh was aware of Toby suddenly standing beside him, taking Sam’s weight. 

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Toby said as he pulled Sam upwards again. Josh followed as CJ led the way to the door that led to the alleyway. The cold air hit them all but seemed to do little to revive Sam from his stupor. 

“This way,” CJ called confidently and no one queried her knowledge of the escape route. They were almost at the end of the alleyway. Toby could see the carpet of light escaping from the streetlight at its end. It was another light though that made Sam suddenly come to life. A door to a restaurant’s kitchen had been slung open and with the light, a chorus of sounds from inside the kitchen spilled into the alley. Any foggy awareness that Sam had that he was in alley became full-blown realisation as the sounds and arch of light from the kitchen took him back to the state of mind he had been in at the bar. His immediate response on finding himself once more in an alleyway was to fight. There were two men near him, one on either side and this time he wouldn’t let them overpower him. He shoved at one and then charged the other.

Josh lost his balance when Sam suddenly swung around and pushed him sideways. He recovered quickly though and ran over to where Sam now had Toby pinned against the wall. Toby was shouting but it was having no effect on Sam who was totally oblivious to everything but fear and his determination to conquer the cause of it.

Josh pulled at his shoulders and succeeded in dragging him away from Toby. “Sam! For God’s sake, Sam, it’s us, Toby and Josh. You’re safe.”

Sam didn’t move and so neither did anyone else. Josh held onto Sam and they waited. It was CJ who finally broke the silence. She spoke at the same time as the kitchen door was slammed shut and the arc of light disappeared.. “It’s okay, Sam, you’re safe. We’re taking you home. It’s just me, Josh and Toby, okay? We’re going to go to the ca-”

“Get me home,” Sam cut her off, his tone making it clear he didn’t care where he was or who he was with he just wanted to go.

CJ led the way, Josh beside her and Toby and Sam following. “When did you become Mistress of DC Alleyway’s?” Josh asked.

“I come here a lot,” CJ replied mysteriously and behind her Toby smiled at the puzzled look he knew would be on Josh’s face.

 

 

After he had been to the bathroom to clean up, Sam insisted on making coffee. His offer was accepted more because his friends wanted to stay and make sure he was okay rather than being polite guests. 

Josh picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table and flicked through it as Toby sat opposite him drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa. CJ wandered into the kitchen and watched as Sam slowly pushed the plunger down on the filter. “My machine’s broken,” he explained. “One day it’s gurgling away and the next nothing, not a drop. It seemed like a perfect excuse to try to give up coffee but then I remembered I had this.”

CJ smiled and reached for the cups from the shelf above Sam. “They’ll want to talk you know,” she said of Toby and Josh.

“I know.” Sam placed the cups on the tray and nodded to the sugar and milk before heading towards the living room, “I guess we’d better talk then,” he sighed as he held the door open for CJ and followed her in.

 

 

The smoke ring Toby made as he puffed on one of Sam’s cigars was quite magnificent. Sam and Josh watched as it spiralled up towards the ceiling where it joined the uneasy silence that floated above them.

Toby placed the cigar on the ashtray and leant back in his chair. It was like, Sam decided, the time he had spent the whole night in a ‘borrowed’ car with Daniel Masterson which had ended up wrapped around the tree outside the courthouse. His father had sat silently in a similar manner, slowly placed his cigarette in an ashtray and then leant back and announced Sam was grounded until he left home.

“So,” Toby began, “shall we just skip over the whole bar brawl thing and talk about your obvious flashbacks or would you like to start with explaining why you felt the need to start beating that guy into pulp?”

“I think we should talk about how completely dead I am going to be tomorrow when Donna finds out I, yet again, did a very bad job of getting Sam home safe.”

Sam couldn’t help a small smile from gracing his lips at Josh’s suggestion. He would rather discuss that than the other two subjects as well. 

“We could do that, Josh, but then I’d have to place this finely crafted letter opener Sam has here up your-”

“Okay,” CJ interrupted. She held her hands up and waited until all three men were looking at her. “It’s late, we’re all tired and somewhere along the way I think we’ve forgotten that we never actually had anything to eat tonight. I think I should go into the kitchen and rustle something up and you three can sit here and start talking, sensibly and honestly.”

“You’re going to rustle something up?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“In my kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“Can I watch?” The question gained Sam a clip to the side of his head and then CJ was gone, the kitchen door closed behind her and silence once more settled on the room.

“Sensibly and honestly,” Josh mused, “do we do sensible and honest?”

“Not usually at the same time,” Sam replied and somehow the short exchange shifted the tension from the atmosphere.

“So, what was the guy doing that made you forget our no brawls in public code?” Toby asked.

“That’s the wrong question.” Josh was addressing Toby but staring at the Sam. “The real question is did the flashback start before the fight or during it?”

Sam had been getting very good at hiding his emotions recently, especially when it came to Josh, but his reaction to Josh’s words made denial impossible.

“During,” he admitted honestly. “He just hit that man, offered him his hand and then hit him again. I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen.”

“So, you took a swing at him. He took a swing at you. You took another swing at him and then, somewhere along the way and you don’t know how or when, you weren’t in the bar at all were you. You were back in the alley. You weren’t fighting some jerk you were fighting them.”

Toby watched in fascination as Sam nodded slowly. Josh knew what Sam was going through. He’d been through the same thing. Toby didn’t know where Josh was taking Sam but he was going to remain silent and watch before stepping in. 

“You’re there again. It’s not a memory or a snapshot of hazy images. You’re there again, living it again only you don’t get to change the ending. It’s still scares the crap out of you and you still can’t fight them off.” Sam nodded again quicker this time. He was staring at Josh, his face an odd mixture of amazement that anyone could know what it was like and a longing to be told how to stop it happening again. 

“And then you come out of it and you’re back where you thought you were only you feel even more frightened now because being beaten up or shot is one thing but knowing your mind can make it happen to you again and again no matter where you are well, that’s another thing altogether.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed almost in a whisper.

Josh moved and sat down next to Sam. “Then in the alley, it started again. Any alleyway will do, won’t it, Sam, but this one was even better, this one had a door open onto it just like the other one making just enough light to make the shadows even darker. This one even had the same soundtrack of a restaurant’s kitchen playing just so you could really relive the moment.” 

“I can’t stop it.”

This time it was Josh who nodded. “I know.”

Toby was waiting for Josh to tell Sam that it gets better, that he saw someone and they helped him make his PTSD go away, but he didn’t he just sat there. “Even when you’re not having a flashback it’s with you every second of the day. You’re frightened all the time and weakened by it. You’ve never felt so weak. Vulnerable. You’re a victim.”

“So tell me how to make it stop. Tell me what to do.”

Toby saw the kitchen door open but caught CJ’s eye and gestured for her to wait. 

“I can’t, Sam. I wish to God I could. I know that it does though. I know that if you see someone, talk about it, then it will.”

Sam turned towards Josh and Toby could no longer see his face. He didn’t need to though. He could imagine Sam’s expression from the one on Josh’s face. “It does, Sam, believe me. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to live without fear but here I am, alive, healed, not frightened anymore.”

Sam rubbed at his face and then his eyes. When he placed his hand down he was surprised to feel Josh’s hand cover it. “There’s not a day goes by... I would give anything, anything, to go back and change what I did. And if I could go back I’d go to way before that night, I’d go back to the time when we stopped being the friends we were. I’d go back and change it all. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I know that’s too big of an ask right now, but just tell me, promise me that-”

“I can’t tell you anything,” Sam stood up abruptly and moved over to where Josh had been standing moments before, “and I certainly can’t promise you anything. And how did this suddenly become all about you again! God, Josh, don’t you ever get sick of thinking about yourself. I know I do and believe me I’ve done nothing but think of you since this whole nightmare began and I’m fucking sick of it. You don’t get to ask me to promise you anything. You stopped coming to me, remember?” Sam walked to the window, turned a tight circle and stormed back over to the sofa. “And shall I tell you what I’ve been thinking about the most?” All Josh could do was nod meekly in reply. “I’ve been thinking about whether you meant those things you said or not, if you really believe them. I don’t doubt that eventually I’ll forgive you for setting off a chain of events that nearly got me killed, but I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wondering if you really believe those things. Because the problem is, Josh, you’ve done nothing in the past few months to make me think you’d quite like me to die but you’ve done plenty to make me think you meant every word you said.”

CJ decided now would be a good time to enter the room. The sound of the door being pushed open by the edge of the tray she was carrying forced the tension that had quickly built between Sam and Josh to creep away. Sam turned and strode over to the window where he stood with his back to his friends and his hands in his pockets. CJ laid a round of sandwiches onto some plates and then took one of them over to Sam. “You said it was time to talk, not sulk,” she said as she offered the plate to him.

“Yeah? Well, I’m done talking.” Sam pushed by her and stormed into the kitchen. CJ watched as Toby and Josh started to have a nonverbal conversation which involved head nodding in the direction Sam had gone, furious head shakes and equally furious nods until Josh reluctantly stood and followed Sam out of the room.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-nine

“I didn’t mean them.” Josh had walked into the kitchen to find Sam leaning over the sink. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t know why I wanted to hurt you like that.”

Sam looked up at Josh and shrugged. “Well don’t ask me, I don’t why you’d want to either.”

“Do you really think there’s a place for guys like you in government apart from making the rest of us look good?” Josh shook his head as he repeated his words. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I know your worth, Sam. The President knows it, Leo knows it and Toby, although it would kill him to show it, knows it.”

“Well that’s nice to know. Thank you, Josh. Do I get a report card now?” Sam replied, his weariness as he pulled a chair over, evident. 

Josh didn’t dare make a move. He wanted to go and sit opposite Sam but felt it best to stay where he was for the moment. “You’re not making this very easy.”

“Good. It shouldn’t be.”

“No, it shouldn’t.” He pushed away from the counter and nodded to the empty chair. When Sam made no move to object he quickly sat down. “People don’t know you as being my friend. That was a crass thing to say. They know you as the guy that crafted one of the most stirring inauguration speeches of recent times. They know you as the guy who, despite his inner feelings, used his genius with words to help the public trust the President again. They know you as the guy who was shot at, waiting on news of his best friend but still managed to be the calm, eloquent face of an administration in turmoil. Sure, some of them know you as the jerk who together with that even bigger jerk tried to set the White House on fire but most of them, whether they realise it or not, know you through your words, and your words will be remembered, Sam, they’ll be remembered and quoted long after I leave politics.”

Sam had been looking at his clasped hands but now he looked up at Josh and was surprised to see moisture in his friend’s eyes.

“And then,” Josh continued, “one day someone who never knew your name will put two and two together and they’ll be listening to President Seaborn’s inauguration speech and wondering if you wrote it yourself.”

Still Sam didn’t react. He showed no emotion on hearing his friend’s earnest words. “And what will you be doing?”

Josh frowned. “I’ll be there right beside you, if I haven’t completely ruined any chance of that. I’ll be your Chief of Staff.”

Sam shook his head.

“Communications Director?” Again Sam shook his head. “Press Officer?” A snort from Sam put pay to that notion. Josh frowned but then tried again, “Food taster?” 

“Excellent! Then, when you least expect it, I’ll get the Secret Service to poison the crab puffs and finally be able to exact my revenge on you.”

“No one would suspect a thing. You could even serve a few off ones so that just enough people came down with serious food poisoning to make my sad demise even less suspicious.”

Sam nodded as if he was seriously considering the plot then stood up and placed his chair back under the table. “We’ve gone from a great speechwriter to President, that’s a bit of a leap.”

“The President doesn’t think so,” Josh replied and smiled at Sam’s startled reaction. “And, whilst we’re on the subject, neither do I.”

Sam walked slowly towards the door and Josh rose and followed him. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to boost my ego in an attempt to make me forget those things you said.”

“Is it working?”

“Pathetically, yes, I think it is.” Sam shrugged helplessly and pushed the door open. CJ and Toby looked up expecting to see either Josh or Sam storm out. They were both surprised by the relaxed atmosphere that accompanied the two men. 

“When Sam’s president, I’m going to be his Chief Food Taster and he’s going to have me cunningly murdered in a fit of revenge.”

“I didn’t say Chief Food Taster. Even in fantasy land you’re looking for promotion.”

Josh sighed and flopped onto the sofa next to CJ and reached over to steal the sandwich from her plate. Her hurried grab did nothing to dislodge the snack from its journey to his mouth. “I have to practice, CJ,” Josh explained, “I can’t be Chief Food Taster to the President of the United States if I don’t practice.”

Toby listened to Josh’s protests but his attention was fixed solely on Sam who was helping himself to a sandwich and smiling at CJ’s reply to Josh. Sam glanced up and caught Toby’s eye. He sent Toby a slight nod and Toby relaxed back against the cushions once more.

 

They stayed until late. CJ left first, hugging Sam and holding onto his arm even as he opened the door for her. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Sam asked.

“Not giving up on Josh. Being the friend I knew you were.” She hugged him once more then left. 

Sam returned to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. “I think I may have broken a rib.”

“Sam!” Toby jumped up out of his seat. “Now? You’re telling us this now!”

“I’m no doctor-” Sam started but was cut off by Josh who was also on his feet and fumbling for his phone.

“Josh, what are you doing?” Sam asked but his attention quickly turned to Toby who was running his palm up Sam’s chest. “Toby! What the hell are you doing?” Both men froze. Josh looked at Toby and stopped dialling. Toby removed his hand and straightened up. “I’ll tell you what you’re doing, you’re overreacting is what you’re doing!” Sam reached for a bottle of beer and shook his head. “I said I thought I may have broken a rib and you too are acting like it’s code blue on the trauma ward!”

Toby coughed and scratched at his beard. He looked across at Josh who was staring at Sam with a frown. “Well, excuse us! You don’t get to make flippant comments about your health for at least, I don’t know, the next six years.”

Sam groaned. His head hit the back of the sofa. “My ribs are fine. A little cracked maybe. Bruised maybe,” Sam hastily changed his diagnosis then frowned, “Actually, I don’t think you can bruise a rib as a rib is bone. Maybe there’s muscle which surrounds the-”

“Have you broken a rib or not?” Toby yelled.

“Not,” Sam replied meekly.

“Okay then. I think this would be a good time for me to go as that never distant urge to throttle you which seems to have lessened of late appears to be returning.” Toby picked up his coat and followed Sam to the door. He called good night to Josh and pulled the living room door closed behind him. “You’re okay?” Sam nodded. “I mean you’re okay with Josh staying?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually am.”

Toby nodded and then embraced Sam in a quick, awkward hug before turning to the open door and hurrying through it.

 

 

It was raining. Cars slowed down and people quickened their pace. A young man pulled his collar tighter around his neck and ran as fast as he could from his car to the door of his apartment. Three storeys above him a window was closed firmly against the torrent of falling water.

“It’s really coming down.” Josh wiped his hands on his trousers and returned to his seat opposite Sam who nodded at his comment but remained staring at the bottle in hands.  
“Do you want another?” Josh stood again, “I’m getting one.” Sam shook his head and Josh went into the kitchen returning a moment later with two bottles of beer. Sam smiled softly as he took the offered bottle.

The rain lashing against the windows was the only sound in the room. Josh watched as Sam peeled the label from the bottle. He placed the shreds on the arm of the chair and tried to put the label back together. Josh wished he could put the pieces of their friendship back together as easily.

Eventually Sam gave up and brushed the pieces into his hand and placed them on a plate. He drained his bottle and placed it on the table. Without turning to Josh he finally broke the silence. “What did Leo say to you about your PTSD? You said once that he said something to you after you’d seen Stanley and it helped.”

Josh smiled as he always did at the memory of Leo’s moving and eloquent words. He leaned forward and began to relate the story. Sam stared at the bottle on the table but Josh knew he was listening intently. When he had finished, he waited for Sam to speak hoping that the story would be as helpful to Sam as it had been to him.

“I suppose you’re the guy.”

“What guy?” Josh asked.

“The guy down the hole. The one who knows the way out.”

“I suppose I am,” Josh agreed, “if you want me to be.” It had stopped raining and Josh missed the constant noise that managed to drown out the silence in the room. “Do you want me to be?”

Sam rubbed wearily at his eyes and then slowly turned his gaze to Josh. “I suppose I do. I don’t want to live like this anymore I know that much.”

“You don’t have to.” Josh stood and in a move that surprised Sam he came and crouched down in front of him. “Let me help you, Sam. I can’t go back and change anything but I’d give anything to be given the chance to, so let me help you now.”

Sam looked down at his friend and for the first time in he couldn’t remember when, he wasn’t filled with anger at the sight of him. He was instead hit with the realization of exactly what his friend was going through, how desperate he was to make amends, and what damage would be done to him if Sam didn’t allow him to. Sam nodded and then fixed his stare on his friend. “Help me.”

The rain lashed against the window pane but its ferocity had lessened. Down below people who had been rushing to get out of the downpour were now adopting a more relaxed pace along the sidewalk and in the apartment above them, two men were beginning to regain the relaxed pace of their friendship.

The End


End file.
